


Animulae

by shslivalice



Series: animulae [1]
Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy XII, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Based on a roleplay, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Body Horror, Crossover, F/M, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, NaNoWriMo, breaking canon is fun, experiment bros, i've been waiting to use that tag, looks at prompto and balthier, shut up they're brothers now, this began as nano fic anyway, well some of it, you all should try it sometime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-26 18:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 106,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13863825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shslivalice/pseuds/shslivalice
Summary: After people begin awakening back at the beginning of a Realm Reborn, questions arise. Questions, and trying to change fate - even if fate may have been altered more then anybody is aware...





	1. Chapter 1

Everything was wrong.  
  
Not just because Nero tol Scaeva was at his desk, reading, instead of harrassing Cid nan Garlond with some form of silliness or another. And not just because the soft buzzing around him would normally distract the tall Garlean, even as midnight ticked past. Well, those were some reasons it was wrong. But, really, the reason it felt wrong was that Nero was sure he'd been in this situation before. Often, Nero was unsure of how days passed - sleep was for the weak. (He wasn't weak.) But this was his bedroom, in Castrum Meridianum - one of many places which had been destroyed by the hands of that hero.  
  
Clearly, though, this place wasn't destroyed. The moonlight filtered though his all too small window, letting Nero feel it on his smooth skin. Usually, he'd be laying in bed - but, no. Even these books seemed to be the same as they'd been before he'd lost everything. Which was still a pity - quite a few of these books were classics, written about the Allagan Era - and ways to improve their technology. Hand-picked by Nero when he'd been tasked with restoring Ultima Weapon.  
  
Ah, Ultima. Still a beautiful being, even if now Nero knew of the flaws which caused it to fall. That being the heroes and their Blessing. Who'd be able to counter that, hm? Damned gods - why couldn't it just be a Primal? Now that'd be a lot easier for Nero and his allies both. But gods existing was simply a fact of life. One Nero hated. But these books reminded him of why he cared so much for Ultima, even before seeking Omega and the Void. (Not in that order, of course.) There was a beauty to its' design, and beauty to the Bits he had been in the middle of making.  
  
Still... had Nero simply dreamed all of that? It felt far too real to be just a dream. And that was why everything was wrong, to the Garlean. Letting out a soft growl, Nero turned a page in his book. If it had been a dream, then perhaps it was... the time he worked with that traitor of a black-cloaked man. How he hated that man. Sure, Nero held no loyalty to Gaius. (Only a little, if he was forced to admit it.) But a death trapped within such a wonderful device was horrific. And abusing his aid to try and kill everything? Damnit. He'd need to see him again, wouldn't he?  
  
Lahabrea, was it?  
  
It bothered Nero that Lahabrea looked familiar. Whenever he took off that hood of his, he looked just like Deitrich. His other rival - the one he'd only made recently, unlike Cid.

* * *

How, then, had Deitrich become Neros' rival? It had begun quite simply, inside the Alchemists' Guild. Though Nero worked with Garlemald, there were some things that could not be gotten with force - and Nero tinkered with Alchemy, at times. Garlean Alchemy had begun from a similar place as Eorzean Alchemy - seeking the ability to transmute materials to create stronger and more amazing tools, seeking immortality and infinite cold, and the such. However, due to the differences in Garlemald and their natives, different skills had been taught and mastered by the Master Alchemist of Garlemald.  
  
Nero, though he'd hide it, was no Master. There was much more to be found inside his mechanics and restorations, honestly, then creation. Even so, some tools could help in both. And, so, donning a mask and his heavy coat, Nero had made his way south to Ul'dah - expression unreadable as he stood in the Guild.  
  
"You're truly saying," Nero spoke, leaning a little over Esmenet (the supplier), "this backwater Guild doesn't sell Black Firesand?"  
  
Esmelet shook her head, as the tall Garlean sneered over her. "And here I thought you'd be fully stocked. Alas - do you have Shark Oil, at the very least?"  
  
Before the supplier could be scared more, however, Deitrich cleared his throat. "Sir. What use do you have with these items?" He stood a little shorter then Nero, but held that same harshness the Garlean could recognize as a fighter. Hm.  
  
"If you must know?" Nero asked, shrugging, and turning his attention to the other man. "It's to repair my weapon. To restore the levin charge, you see, it requires sanding down and a new coat of special oils - craftable with Shark Oil."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Deitrich looked over Nero - clearly assessing him as well. "What a charming way to try and scam us."  
  
"...What."  
  
"Shark Oil can't be mixed with other oils. The remains of the sharks are far too thick - what are you trying here?" Deitrich said, moving from one side of the counter to the other. His hands had moved to his sides casually, as he gave a confident smirk. "I'll have you know, us of the Alchemy Guild are no slouches, even if the Guildmaster is far more occupied with his studies then others."  
  
Nero snickered to himself, before looking straight down at the man - his eyes still masked. "And what, exactly, makes you say that? It can be combined with Black Firesand to create quite the magic-resistant coating - not that you'd know that, savage."  
  
Savage. A word Nero maybe should have kept to himself - for, of course, the entire mood seemed to sour. Deitrich looked towards the guildmaster - who had no reaction, of course, for he was better then this riffraff - before crossing his arms. "We don't serve Garleans. It's my personal policy not to serve our enemies."  
  
With a little frustration in his voice, Nero shook his head. "And here I was going to be kind," he said, moving a little backwards, "but I see you'll not work with me. Mark my words, Alchemist--"  
  
"You can call me Deitrich, if you need to call me anything."  
  
"Deitrich. And we shall meet again - I'll turn a believer into you."  
  
It was lucky for both of them, really, that Nero left when he did. For not even a minute later, a small masked Linkpearl rang in Deitrichs' ear. With a wave of his hand, he moved away - to the other side of the area used for the Alchemists' Guild.

"Thancred, are you doing well?"

For the man known as Deitrich was also the man known as Thancred Waters, an undercover job he'd grown a little too good at - and remained at, in Ul'dah, waiting for those with the Echo. Those he could see working with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. And, to be honest? He hadn't taken the threats of that masked Garlean far too seriously. After all, who'd really become a rival over that kind of situation?  
  
That was more then a year before the Warriors of Light awoke, mind you - and though that time, Thancred hadn't seen Nero around. (Who'd mistake anybody else for a sulking Garlean?) But Nero had recalled that face and voice both, and had worked more on his Alchemy. He'd restored and improved his dear hammer, but something had still bothered him. When he'd returned to his quarters, he'd once again gone out - to see one of his main engineers, Velas'a Faegyln.  
  
"Velas. I have a simple request for you," he said, looking down to the dark-skinned Miqo'te. For a Miqo'te, Velas'a was curious - for his ears were long and his tail was short. But his long claws were quite handy. "I even brought you the ingredients."  
  
Velas looked up from his tinkering, given a soft little nod.  
  
"Combine these."  
  
It didn't need to be explained - Velas'a was a smart man, and he was well-trained by Nero and his ways. Scrambling to his feet, it only took a moment or two for him to take the two materials - trying not to raise an eyebrow. Black Firesand and Shark Oil...? But still, he sat and began to try and craft...  
  
...but the sand melted into the oil, not combining in the way Nero expected. Velas'a flinched, but Nero simply looked him over. "Interesting."  
  
And with that, Nero left Velas'a. For the time being, mind you. That boy was skilled with machinery, and was one of his favorite to get to assist him. (Not a friend, though. There's no such thing as a friend in Garlemald.) But for the next while, Nero had tried to focus on why. The whys bothered him. He could combine it perfectly, but Velas'a couldn't? How disgusting. (Disgusting in a minor way. Yes, minor. That's why Nero spent at least two moons unable to think of many things other then it. Livias' cruel taunts hadn't helped, either. Well, she tended to act like that, anyway, and it was a little comforting alongside the strange memories.  
  
The mental image of Livia dying was also a comfort to Nero, but then again, nobody said Nero was healthy.)

* * *

That was the past, and this is the now. With Nero sitting by his window, reading softly. However, he gave a little soft grunt as he turned another page. If he was going to meet Lahabrea again, he'd need a plan. For one, he doesn't need help restoring Ultima. Not this time. At the same time, he was almost afraid of the power that man showed. Somehow, when he battled the Warriors of Light, Nero could tell he was holding back his power. Even in a situation like that - was he doing it to taunt them? How very interesting, Nero thought - a shell giving up their body. (He'd learned that this shell was possessed, from some of his casual linkpearl hacking and eavesdropping. Why, those who thought they were hack-proof were quite foolish - as were those who spoke their secret plans.)  
  
But how could one plan around somebody like that? He couldn't fight him, nor tell Gaius why he mistrusted him. Because, to be honest, he didn't trust Gaius either. It was mostly due to these damn feelings of deja vu, Nero supposed - and, of course, the fact Gaius had never gotten over Cid. Not like him. Slowly, he closed his book - though he could continue reading, the moonlight alone wasn't bright enough. Plus, with lights out having been hours ago, that was all he could use.  
  
Perhaps he could rest. Though it was a waste of time, Nero felt. Honestly, if Nero had the time to rest, he had the time to work. Everybody else was simply lazy, sometimes not moving for hours. Their loss, really.

* * *

The day to day life, as Nero tol Scaeva worked on Ultima, was quite expected. The machine was resting deep below the ground, shelted inside Praetorum. Only those hand-picked by Gaius or him were allowed down here, to where the device remained silently dreaming. (Did machines dream? Clearly, Nero thought that it was a little romantic.) Today, however, his work was on perfecting the Magitek Bits. For if people were to come too close to the beast before it was activated, Nero needed them to be ready to fire.  
  
Did he?  
  
Didn’t he?  
  
Nero gave a little grunt to himself. No more thinking about what happened. He loved his dear Bits as much as Ultima, even if they were more disposable. They purred and whirred just perfectly, hovering just the right distance from the ground - and, of course, their lazers could cut though a lesser Lalafell so very easily!  
  
The people who’d make Ultima fall were not lesser, though. No, he had even grown to respect one or two of that group of eight. Hadn’t he? Quite a few of them he wanted to prove wrong. Or simply shut them up - that strange Miqo’te with strong fire and ice magic, for example. And not shut up with a kiss - now that’s something Nero’d hate. And the Lalafell child with them, the one with the spear. She’d likely jump on top of a bit if he set it to fire at her… hm. Perhaps he could modify their venting so that it vented vertically after firing. It would take a bit of time, but it’d be far harder to dodge. Nero would need to carry out some tests, perhaps get a lowly grunt soldier to assist him with something worthwhile. (Was it worthwhile— damnit, Nero’d promised himself! No more worrying about a future which most likely didn’t exist! It was likely a dream… except, of course, Nero’d never dreamed. That, too, was a waste of time - thinking back for a moment, Nero couldn’t think of a time he remembered resting long enough to lose himself in anything. Except for his vast collection of fictional stories - but that was different then what he’d experienced.)  
  
Of course, as always, Nero was the first one down there. It’s almost as if his underlings didn’t understand working this early was great! With the moon gone, Nero knew he’d be feeling more and more tired thoughout the day - and, so, why not begin working at sunrise?  
  
The day dragged on, not just for Nero, but for his underlings. Especially Velas’a - who remained silent most of the day, simply trying to increase the firepower of his Magitek Armour. It was a little queer that he brought it down here, but Nero allowed it. But why? Mostly because Velas’a was seeing if any of the Allagan technology from Ultima could be placed within the younger machine. Not that, honestly, the Garlean considered it a foolish attempt. Then again, he’d seen it before, and saw it wasn’t possible. The poor Miqo’te was repeating mistakes.  
  
But, well, that’s how this went. Other engineers fluttered around, of course, working on smaller projects Nero commanded. Not just on Ultima, mind you. Ultima was just one of many weapons he needed to finish. If his memories were right, then he’d need to finish improvements on quite a few things before the heroes came for him. Them.

* * *

It was nearing the end of the day, as he was his most tired, that Nero strolled out of the protected work area of dear Ultima. Softly, a sigh parted his lips. Even if he’d wanted to forget everything, he couldn’t. Last time - if it was a last time - he had no clue that Cid was alive out there, still being respected. So many had thought he’d perished in the Calamity. Last time, he hadn’t battled for power and came to… what was it, exactly? What was it he felt for Cid? Whatever it was, it wasn’t the anger which motivated him to work on Ultima the first time. How dare the land of Eorzea lure Cid, how dare it end with Cid being admired by so many others! It was a different feeling Nero felt, however, as he began the log walk back to his quarters.  
  
On the way, however, a small pile of a person caught his attention. Clearly, they weren’t looking for attention - somebody so very bundled up was the sort of weak person Nero’d expect to be a foot soldier or lower. Not the Ascian. Masking his frown and emotions the way any Garlean could, Nero grabbed for the back of the cloak - having to mask his own shock when the person stood so very quickly.  
  
Nero hadn’t planned for this - no, he’d planned for a fight.  
  
So when him and the other mans’ eyes met - yes, it was still that damned Alchemist - Nero snarled. “You’re coming with me. Now,” Nero stated, his free hand moving to assist him in picking up the oddly light Deitrich. He wasn’t eating properly? Of course not, Nero thought. Why, if he was possessing somebody, he’d be likely not to care for their health.  
  
All the responce that came from the possessed man was a soft sob. Truly, if Nero was more curious, he’d question him now. But Nero wanted to get back to his quarters - perhaps lay this man in his bed, or take him to his non-work area. (Since Nero was highly ranked, he didn’t simply have a bedroom - no, he had more room. Oddly enough, not a kitchen.)  
  
As he walked, Nero tried to shrug Deitrich off of clinging to him. Perhaps carrying him bridal-style was not the best idea - but, really, it was just what Nero thought of. Nobody seemed to come across them. Thankfully, nobody stared - else Nero would have somebody to either eliminate or be mocked by for having this kind of care.  
  
Kicking his door open, after scanning his access key, Nero looked over Deitrich - before frowning. He was asleep. With those bags under his eyes, he wouldn’t have slept in at least… hm. He’d have to guess it was around 3 cycles of the sun. That would take a lot out of somebody who wasn’t as great as him. Perhaps it was because of his doubts, but… Nero moved swiftly to his bed, dumping the possessed man onto the mostly unused bed. Odd. As he was placed down, Deitrich seemed to groan a little - but not in pain.  
  
Strange, Nero thought. He’d never really… seen others sleeping. Or had a moment to consider the sounds they made. There was much more important things to do. Even when he was in the Void, when he could have looked at Doga and Unei, but he was busy protecting them. And back in the Academy, well, he’d be working while Cid and Velas’a dozed their nights away.  
  
Sitting at his desk again, Nero looked from the sleeping, uncomfortable cloaked man to another of his books, and couldn’t help but sigh to himself again. When had he gotten so soft? Nero swiftly stood, grabbing one of the many blankets he’d gotten as gifts, stolen from men who’d been long forgotten. Still soft with that new feeling, Nero threw it over his guest - one or two blankets, enough to bundle over.

Of course, Nero wasn’t going to just do nothing in his night. There was more reading to do, but there was also… Nero wasn’t going to let this chance go away. He had somebody to question, whenever he woke. And he wouldn’t let him flee, for if Nero could get answers? Oh, he’d like that. Perhaps, though, he shouldn’t show how powerful he was? If it was truly an Ascian he was nursing in his bed - well, he’d seen what they could do to Gaius, and their manipulations elsewhere. The doors would be locked, and… hm. Perhaps that thin man should have some food presented, so that he’d speak with a lot less violence needed from both of them.  
  
What was Nero thinking? Truly… everything was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

The night turned to day, and night once more. Nero had never really kept track of it on days he didn't work. Oh, he hadn't told anybody - to them, his door was simply locked with no answers coming from the Tribunus Laticalvius within. Truly, either something chaotic was going to come from it, or Nero had lost himself in an interesting piece of research. Especially since the smell of burned food came from within. It wasn't Neros' fault that he rarely, if ever, cooked for himself. No, it was the fault of the damned man under his blankets, twitching and groaning at times.  
  
Sometimes, Nero would check if he was awake yet, lazily lifting the blankets. But each time, the guest... or was that captured man? Either way, his eyes were shut rather tightly, and seemed to tremble at the cold. (Was it cold? Between the burned food, the stovetop which remained slightly warm, and the closed up windows, Nero'd swear it'd be warm enough to spite the Ascian. Now, his workplace was somewhere where it was rather cold, but it had to be that way. A lot of the non-metals he introduced were quite sensitive.) It was only as Nero noted the moon shining though the window - a full moon, for once - that he wondered if it was being faked. After all - who could sleep for an entire day? All those hours? Either somebody faking it, or somebody slacking off. (The possibility of it being a side-effect of the possession hadn't crossed his mind.)  
  
Standing from his simple desk - the nice wooden one - Nero loudly scraped his chair across to the bed. It was a heavy metal chair - or, at least, that's what he'd been told. To Nero, the chair was as light or as heavy as any gift he'd gotten. Sitting down so his arms were draped over the back of it, Nero looked to the pile of blankets covering his captive. "I've had enough of this, Deitrich. Either wake up... or I'll have to do something drastic." To be honest, he hadn't though of what he'd do. Usually, he'd threaten those who he had to work with - well, with bodily harm. (Or taking away their next break time.) Perhaps he could keep this man from sleeping? No, that was what he was seeing here.  
  
From beneath the blankets, there was a soft groan, and a shift. But then... nothing. With a hint of frustration in his single movement, Nero gripped the top blanket - the really nice one, embroidered with the Garlean Flag - and tossed it to the carpeted ground. After a moment, Nero stood - making sure to scrape the chair one last time before approaching the bed.  
  
Removing the other blankets in a swift movement, Nero looked over the sleeping man - now how could he make him uncomfortable? It took only a moment for him to decide. Stretching a little, Nero flopped down on top of the other, putting his weight down on him.

* * *

Usually, Thancred enjoyed having people lay on top of him. Why, he was the sort of person who would lay on top of them. But, really? Nero tol Scaeva was at once uncomfortable and cold and… heavy. For such a thin Garlean, he felt heavier then a fair Roegadyn maiden. He’d been fascinating to watch, mind you. Earlier, he’d seen him combine those damn ingredients, and turning them to a thick ooze. Somehow, he did it…  
  
That wasn’t now, though. Right now was the fact Nero was laying on top of him, and he felt cold and scary. Mind you, not as scary as Lahabrea possessing him - but it was almost worse that he’d awoken from possession, still trapped within the Empire, and still covered in the dark robe of the Ascians. That wasn’t the worst part of waking up - but, of course, it was one reason he’d chosen to sleep, and pretend to sleep, in the room of a… rival? Enemy? Just what was Nero? After all, he’d seen… nevermind.  
  
Lazily looking upwards, Thancred decided to smirk at Nero. “And here I thought you didn’t like me, Tribunus.” Stretching a little, Thancred let out a yawn, as Nero looked at him unblinking. “By the by? You don’t need to call me Deitrich. My name’s Thancred.”  
  
“You were awake,” Nero stated.  
  
“And you couldn’t tell?” Thancred replied, nesting back in the bed - which, now he thought about it, felt quite unused. There were no loose springs, no depressions from this heavyset man. Not even the scent of anybody! Truly, Nero was a fool of a man - this bed was softer then he was expecting. That’s how he’d gotten to sleep, after all.  
  
With a soft pause, Thancred spoke again, shifting to look straight at Nero - far less lazily. “Tribunus Laticalvius, Nero tol Scaeva - you’ve caught me. What now - some torture, some interrogation?” he asked, trying not to joke too much. After all, this was a serious situation.  
  
Nero grumbled, moving to lean closer into Deid— Thancred. Thancred, the Scion? How queer. It didn’t matter. Softly, he closed his eyes for a moment - trying not to let his growl build. “Thancred… are you sure you’re not Lahabrea? The damned Ascian who doomed— dooms Gaius.”  
  
Though Nero didn’t realise it, what he said had meant more then simply questioning possession. Thancred seemed to freeze for a moment - before a soft smile crossed his lips. What had he done…? Nero couldn’t really move closer to Thancred - already, he could feel the other mans’ breath against his tight lips.  
  
Thancred, though, seemed to easily wiggle out of the grip of the other, giving the softest of grunts as he sat up - against the metallic wall. Not even wallpaper? If Eorzea had been fully taken by Ultima Weapon, without being destroyed, wouldn’t this have become a main base for the Garleans? “You remember that, Nero? Well, then…  
  
…do you remember, say… Omega?”  
  
“Of course I remember Omega!” Nero said, remaining laying down - his head twisting upwards to look at Thancred. “My dear Omega - my pretty. I’d almost forgotten how Ultima shared quite a few similarities - especially in those adorable claws—”  
  
If it wasn’t for Thancred placing a hand to Nero - one which Nero shook off quickly — Nero would have continued to ramble about the dear Weapons and his work. In fact, it took Nero that small pause to realise what exactly Thancred was saying. “You remember Omega as well,” he said, his voice turning to a whisper, his throat feeling like it was freezing.  
  
Thancred nodded a little, trying to sit up more - trying not to be pinned by this heavy man. But his legs couldn’t be freed - and his stomach was grumbling, quite violently. “It seems to have stopped the sealed Primal - then again, I wouldn’t call this stopping it.”  
  
“More like… delaying it,” Nero said, as he finally moved to stop laying down - moving to sitting right in front of Thancred. In case he tried to flee. “I hadn’t thought… hah, looks like we might have been better to send your hero in. Whatever awoke with Omega, we’ve really…”  
  
Nero couldn’t finish that sentence, because to be honest, it wasn’t something he’d considered as true. Thancred, however, nodded and slightly averted his gaze. “We’ve gone back in time, Nero. Or— we’ve seen the future. It’s not clear yet.”  
  
With a soft purr from his throat, Nero moved towards his table - to the burned food - before placing it in front of the near-starving Thancred. (Honestly, even it smelled good to Thancred.) As he watched the savage begin to eat - cautiously - Nero gave a small nod to himself. “And here I thought it was just a lie. So, Thancred - is that why you’re not that damned Ascian?”  
  
Thancred didn’t reply.  
  
For another moment, Nero was silent - before adding, trying not to raise his tone still. “I don’t want to punish you, but you’re still an enemy of Garlemald. If you comply with my requests, then, well…” Nero said, picking up one of the blankets tightly, “wouldn’t you enjoy Gaius not knowing you’re our enemy?”  
  
Trying not to choke on the bite he had in his mouth, Thancred focused on Nero again. (The food, by the by? Though horribly burned on the outside, it held an oddly sweet taste inside.) “Blackmail, then,” Thancred said, swallowing loudly. Letting himself consider the other choices - being given freely to Gaius, so close to when the Black Wolf fell? The alternative was much safer. “Well, then. Lahabrea had possessed me…”

* * *

Mor Dhona was truly a land of beauty, even with Castrum Centri reaching though the Fogfens, clearly visible from the settlement in-progress. Metal mixed with vines, small leaves growing though whatever cracks they could. It was not, then, the kind of place wherein Lahabrea would often visit. Really, it was only so he could confirm what he’d been told - the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, enemies to Zodiark, had been captured. His senses had been dulled, in this body. Disgusting Spoken, moral body - but, still, it was a good pawn to fight for Zodiark with.  
  
If it wasn’t weakened, Lahabrea wouldn’t need to check on them like this - the currently unconscious Minfilia tied up, with her also unconscious companions, and— hm. Giving a small glance towards the group, Lahabrea noticed a strange aura from one of them. The Elezen. As Thancred could only watch from his possessed body, Lahabrea seemed to falter, if for a moment. If Thancred could feel what Lahabrea felt, could hear his thoughts, it’d be far easier. Minfilia, for her part, looked so very pale - even as she breathed, it seemed to be a struggle. Whatever that Livia did had done a number on her. (But quite honestly, from what Thancred had seen of Minfilia, she seemed to be struggling alongside the Scions quite a lot.)  
  
Instead, Lahabrea turned - and teleported back to the base where he’d been stationed. Back with the weapon which was to bring on a Rejoining - Ultima Weapon. The room was dark, and the weapon dozed.  
  
…Before Lahabrea seemed to trip over his own feet. Which was weird, because he was floating. Trying to give a glance to his leg, his arm suddenly gripped his neck. Coughing, Lahabrea snarled at the body. “Damn you— you cannot fight me, slave!”  
  
That was, of course, where Lahabrea seemed to be wrong - as the hand tightened around his neck, he coughed and seemed to tremble - before feeling… it. A flash of light, one familiar to but a few Ascian. It felt almost like the Blade of Light, a memory faded from Lahabrea.  
  
But not from the one within Lahabrea, the one fighting for his mind - for his body, for his soul - for within a moment, memories seemed to come flowing back to Thancred. He’d been possessed like this before, he’d done it before. Hylaedyn had given them a Blade of Light, but not one strong enough to destroy Lahabrea—  
  
—they could destroy Ascians. They could fight Ascians and win, and Thancred had forgotten it. Or… had he? That happened later. As the memories flooded back, Thancred stumbled backwards - fuck. His eyes wide, it took a moment for him to realise Lahabrea had even left his body. Left the area, in fact, after being forced out of him. It was only when Thancred fell to the ground that he realised he was in control. The soft fabric of his Ascian cloak betrayed the pain he realised he felt. But… fuck.  
  
Thancred knew he couldn’t hide if he didn’t pretend. They’d either kill him or throw him with the others - Twelve. Was this why Minfilia had been so very jumpy and sick recently? Did she get these memories back? Who else had them? He’d need to bring it up, when… the Warriors of Light. They’d not have these memories, either.  
  
And so, for the weeks he’d been trapped, Thancred had barely eaten or drunk a thing, or even slept. Every movement had to be pre-planned, and having to pretend to be so very connected to Ultima Weapon? Having to act like an ally to Garlemald? There was no doubt, that was why he had collapsed into the bed, and why he’d seemed so very weak. To be honest, Thancred had thought he had been alone, somewhere nobody’d find him - for the last week or so, he hadn’t seen people coming that way.  
  
And, though rumours, he’d heard that there’d been whispers that they were to soon try and experiment on the Archons they’d captured. That would mean it was nearly time for them to be saved… and for the Warriors of Light to soon begin Operation Archon.

* * *

As Thancred finished his story - leaving out any parts about his Scions, of course - Nero had moved to his chair, to lazily drape from it. “And so,” Nero said, with a cat-like grin on his lips, “your plan is to let it go forward, then? Operation Archon. You know, that’ll lead to the deaths of hundreds.”  
  
Thancred shook his head. “Do you really care about them? You were quite fit to run, I heard.” Of course Thancred had to have heard it, at a later point. He was busy letting Ultima fight for Gaius, to bring on the terrifying spell.  
  
Nero shrugged. “I don’t. Just wondering if you thought about it. Besides,” he added, stretching, “it might be fun to play with them.”  
  
Thancred looked at Nero. There were no words for him - he was still Nero tol Scaeva, after all - but still. As if reading his question, Nero laughed. “No, I don’t mean playing with Gaius. But we’re the only two with these memories, aren’t we?  
  
…Garlond might just have forgotten how much he owes me.”  
  
Having finished the odd food, Thancred sighed a little relief. Sure, he was still stuck in Garlemald - but perhaps, he was safe. A little. While being blackmailed. But then, he looked over at Nero - it was a fools’ question, but he should ask. “Say, do you know anything about the captured Scions?” he asked, putting the plate aside. To be honest, the plate also seemed mostly unused - finely made, but far too clean if Nero had been using it. Was this the fine plates? Hah, now Thancred didn’t know if Nero was flirting or just trying to tease him. Could be both, could be neither.  
  
There was quite a bit of concern on Thancreds’ voice - the kind of concern Nero was quite unfamiliar with. After all, Garleans tended to hide that concern for others - it was weakness. Was it because Nero seemed so relaxed? Which, incidentally, he wasn’t. Tilting his head, Nero let out a little laugh. “And leave Velasquez? And Ultima?  
  
…Well, even if I took the trip, it’d be worthless. Tomorrow is the day they break out, after all.” Letting himself pause for a moment, Nero added, “Before you ask, Dei— Thancred, I’ve always been far above others at keeping time. Among other things.”  
  
That made sense to Thancred - and, of course, it made him worry. Beginning to stretch his fingers together, Thancred tried not to whisper. “And after that… a few suns until Operation Archon.”  
  
“You never gave them a break, did you? Your heroes.”  
  
Of course not. Thancred knew how it would hurt somebody, but… on the other hand, they needed to stop Ultima Weapon, back then. Back now. It could end Primals, and destroy Eorzea. Especially due to the monster known as Lahabrea— Twelve. Oh, Twelve. Lahabrea was still out there. Not injured. Pulling his hood over his hair, Thancred let out a groan.  
  
And then, Nero looked over, and shrugged. “I have a shower in the room over. You can use it, if you want.”  
  
Thancred stared. Questions filled his head, but he couldn’t think of the right one - and so, he stood. “Does it lock?” he asked, and Nero nodded. Huh… just what was Nero thinking?  
  
Nero simply watched as Thancred left, before going to pick up the plate. To be honest? He thought Thancred stunk. Like, literally. And if he’d been possessed? Nero would want to take a nice full wash.  
  
He knew there’d be plans to make, once Thancred got more rest.


	3. Chapter 3

Time passed, and the Warriors of Lights had rescued the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and had taken out Rhitahtyn Sas Arvina with their talents. Gaius was so very disgusted that people thought he’d abandoned him - no, Rhitahtyn had found people stronger then him. Of course he was ready - Nero, that was.  
  
“…You have been leaving quite the fine mess in your wake, heroes.” Nero said, walking towards the group - and towards one in particular. If you didn’t know better, the Miqo’te he approached looked like Velas’a - except garbed in Summoners’ gear. The pride of Allag. But, really, it was his little brother. Velas’to. Nero recalled that face, the broken eyes of the Summoner who tried to take on the world. He passed while he was in the Void - and Velas’a changed so very much after that. His expression dark, Velas’to looked up at Nero - grabbing his book close, with his special feather. Nero paced from him, around the other seven - yes, Rhel and Sasaxia were there too, as was K’pandolu… oh, and the other four. An Au Ra with soft blond hair and deep dark skin, holding a blade and shield tightly, alongside a strangely armoured person with a beautifully adorned book, even if their armour was darker then even the proudest of Garlean. Though he’d expect Sasaxia - the small green-haired Lalafell in quite frilly clothes - to hold a spear, it was instead a strange demonic-looking Au Ra in a mask - his black horns seeming to be tinted the same colour as his hair, fading to a blackness from a firey red. As compared to the Miqo’te - Rhel and K’pandolu, both standing with their weapons ready - their other healer, somebody Nero was also unfamiliar with, seemed to hold their stance without any determination. As if they’d just picked up a staff and tried to battle this way - even if they wore a mask as well, with their White Mage robes coated in a soft red dust. (Blood, he supposed. A healer would be covered in the blood of their enemies and friends.)  
  
As for those Miqo’te? While K’pandolu was dressed in traditional Monk robes, her purple, short-cut hair really didn’t suit the yellows, Nero thought. She had a look which Nero could almost see in himself - a confidence. As compared to K’pandolu, Rhel - though masked by that damned Black Mage hat and glasses both - was somebody Nero disliked. No, not because she was even shorter then he expected from a Keeper, but because she was somebody so invested in magic.  
  
How queer, though - a similar crew to last time - at least half of them. And yet, he could see a new determination. Did any of them know?  
  
From the crackle of his communicator - the communicator of the entirety of the building - Nero could hear that very same voice he’d never forget. Cid. “Is someone there!?”  
  
Hah. Just as he remembered. “Garlond, old friend. It’s only your dearest rival - and the greatest thread to Eorzea,” Nero replied, trying not to smirk at himself. “Nero tol Scaeva, in other words. I’ve been expecting you.”  
  
Last time, he was acting quite differently, as far as Nero recalled (and to be honest, Nero didn’t forget things easily). Perhaps being friendly would be quite fun. Especially as he closed his eyes, under his helm, he could see Cid nan Garlond, standing back at his own control area. Hacking in, of course. Looking around, Cid continued to talk. “…What? You’ve lost me, Nero.”  
  
Leaning a little in the center of his arena, Nero chuckled. “As you’ve put together, it is I who is the highest ranking tribunus of the XIVth. Do you know how I got there, Garlond?”  
  
“Nero, I— you’re a smart, hardworking man?”  
  
Not the reply Nero wanted, nor expected. His brow furrowing, Nero continued. “Do you recall your place? Forever treasured for Midas, even once you defected. I’ve forever been in your shadow… even Lord van Baelsar sees me as lesser then you—”  
  
“Nero, I had no idea,” Cid said, trying to talk over Nero.  
  
Nero was quiet, if only for a moment, before continuing. “But, dear Garlond, that’s in the past. I want to see you and your Warriors of Light pass me. I won’t fight you - why, I’ll even give you a little head-start behind me.”  
  
This time, though, it wasn’t Cid who replied. It was the Miqo’te - Rhel - who stepped forward. There was a cautious look on her face. “Why?”  
  
With a deep chuckle in his throat, Nero kept his eyes shut. “Think of it as a present. An olive branch - not everything is what it seems. Oh, and prepare for the battle of your life.”  
  
The Au Ra woman with them had walked past him as he talked - Nero hadn’t seen her before. The other seven moved swiftly - Sasaxia giving Nero a dirty look - before the doors behind him locked. He’d done it. Nero’d… changed what he did. Not that he’d admit this was kindness. No, Nero was more curious about how it could change the timeline.  
  
Slowly stepping towards the other exit to the room - where he’d run before - Nero then thought to Gaius. This time, he really was a traitor. How very… fun. If Nero cared about the Empire anymore… well, okay. He still cared, in his own way. But if he cared about being seen as a traitor, he’d changed things more. As Nero was ready to leave, however - his eyes stopped and focused on the Magitek Armour nearby, branded with the Garlond Ironworks’ insignia. It must be Maggie - the one they abducted, and made their own with a Mammets’ heart.  
  
Hah, Mammets. So many thought they had emotions, acted as more Spoken then simply creations. It was quite disgusting, in Neros’ mind—  
  
—But never mind that, the Magitek is damaged. Though it remained standing, the cannon and core were nearly busted right open, and that left leg was clearly leaning a little. Nero couldn’t help it - he’ll work on repairing it, and then he’ll gather the last of his belongings. Dropping to his knees, Nero put a hand to the Magitek - with it letting out a confused whir.  
  
“Ssh,” Nero whispered, as he began to remove his armoured gloves. “You’re in good hands.” Those hands, of course, being Neros’ - which seemed to glow a little blue as he began to stroke the Magitek. Hm… to repair this kind of damage, he’d need to combine Ferberite, a little Enchanted Mythril Ink, and Electrum Sand. Oh, and Varnish - to get that perfect gleam. For many, it would seem strange that Nero keeps these things around him - but as he continued to remove more and more of his armour, he was glad he was alone. After all, he didn’t need any eyes on him as he got out his ingredients.  
  
By reaching into odd glowing spots on his body - which, when not glowing, seemed to look like scars.  
  
What Nero wasn’t aware of was that Maggie was watching - and took a few wary steps back, even with the wobbly leg and the wreckage of the door around them. Letting off a few warning lights, the Magitek focused at Nero - who was beginning to craft, having slipped at least a shirt back on. “Oh, now you’re going to judge me? And right after I promised to help you, Magitek,” Nero stated, his fingers seeming to extend and wrap around the few scraps of Ferberite he’d retrieved. “It’s not my fault those damned savages have to store their goods outside their body - it’s another waste of time, if you ask me.  
  
It’s all they do. Waste time with useless procedures. Why, if it were up to me - which it should be - they’d work as hard as me. Then, they’d be worthy.”  
  
The strange paste done - a sickly orange, oddly solid for how oozified it seemed - Nero turned to the now-curiously whirring device. Without another word, he began to rub it into the machine - remembering to himself that it worked its’ best when he focused on what he wanted it to do. Unknown to him, though, there was another nearby - who the Magitek was really looking at. Thancred had decided he couldn’t… he couldn’t handle fighting the eight Warriors. So, instead, he’d snuck here as they battled Gaius. And, well.  
  
A half-naked Nero rubbing orange ooze he’d made out of things which should not mix onto the Magitek he’d been rescued on the first time around was not quite what Thancred expected. No, really, if somebody had made a list of the things Thancred expected less - well, to be honest, there'd be quite a few things on that list, but this was high on it. And so, Thancred had to make a choice. Would he continue to sneak out, and get seen by Nero - or would he go back down there, to those eight who battled? This time, he was free of battle. Not only free from Lahabrea, but free from what Flow had done to him.  
  
As Nero glanced over in the direction - he, after all, had heard breathing - Thancred was gone. It was just him and Maggie, who had begun to not only absorb the ooze, but get repaired. Metal was made out of liquid, and tendrils of power seeped into the friendly armour. Proudly, Nero looked at his handiwork - before standing up, with a stretch. "Well, Magitek. That's something Garlond wouldn't do, hm?"  
  
Of course, he began to place his armour back on, lazily. Knowing that it wasn't dented or destroyed by battle made him feel quite good about this. Ah, to not need to waste more time repairing it. Not that it was a waste last time - but the repairs were most likely why the Void had tainted him so very much. If he was to explore it again...? Now that'd be a hoot. Unlike Ultima, Nero hadn't gotten to explore all of the Void he'd wished to. Another realm...? Far too interesting. Especially after so many of those beings wanted to come into this realm, Nero thought - what makes this realm so interesting? Hah, he'd need to meet with...  
  
Doga, Unei, and G'raha. It seemed to hit Nero, just like that. They'd be alive and awake. But they wouldn't remember him. So much for that fleeting thought of… huh. What, exactly, was he thinking of when he thought of them? It wasn’t… anger, or disappointment. Nor was it sadness, because that’s what he felt now. It was the same feeling he felt when he’d gotten Ultima to activate… huh. A mystery for another day, as he watched Maggie tremble and purr at the new repairs - small sparks coming from their cannon.  
  
Perfect. Nero couldn’t help but grin, giving a wave to the armour, before turning to leave. “Don’t tell anybody.”

* * *

Meanwhile, Thancred had left watching the Garlean and his weird ooze - slowly moving to the elavator the eight had battled Gaius on. What he didn’t expect to see there was one of them, sitting on the elavator, still tending their wounds - or, at least, he thought it was one of them. It was clearly not one of the soldiers, for they were in soft pink clothes, draped over the quite charming body of an Au Ra - but, even so, she wasn’t wearing any armour. No, she wore a soft pink dress, her tail tucked underneath - said tail beginning to twitch at seeing Thancred.  
  
Kneeling down and grimacing, he grabbed a potion - one of the few he’d crafted - and passed it to her. Usually, he’d want to flirt with such a woman, but her deep blue eyes and golden blonde hair reminded him of… well, somebody who was almost there, in the mess of memories he’d regained. Regaining so many memories in such a short time was not good, his head still hurt. Gulping, he softly spoke. “Are you with the Warriors of Light?” he asked, and that’s what got her to look at him, even if she didn’t grab the small vial in his hands.  
  
Her accent almost felt familiar, as well - from where, really, was on the tip of his tongue. “…I am. They recruited me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Are you— a foe?” As Thancred shook his head, he offered her the potion again - this time, the Au Ra took it. Her fingers glided across the bottle, as she looked back to the ground. “I am… Bolormaa.”  
  
Bolormaa, then. It was the name of a Xaela - which matched with her dark scales. At the same time, he’d never felt this way about a Xaela before. He’d remember that, for sure - Au Ra, and Xaela especially, were rare to see around. Especially ones who could handle a blade like that. As she popped the bottle open, to finally drink from, Thancred began to look though his bag for more. “I’m Thancred,” he said, “and I’m another of the Scions. I was… taken by the Garleans.”  
  
What? It wasn’t really a lie - and besides, he didn’t know how much he could tell her of Lahabrea. Bolormaa nodded, before smiling at him - the elevator near the bottom. “What made you stop up there?” Thancred asked, as he stood alongside her.  
  
“…The others had— Ultima Weapon is destroyed. But I swore I could feel a Paragon, hiding - and so, I stayed behind. But there was no Paragon. And so, I wished to see if that Garlean engineer was involved.”  
  
Bolormaa now could slow her steps, as she softly continued. “He was gone. And, so, I returned to the platform - and you followed, Thancred.” As she spoke, Bolormaa looked at the flames. Honestly, she was surprised the elevator had survived Ultima. It was almost too convenient. “…Have we met before, Thancred?”  
  
That made Thancred pause. It wasn’t just him who felt that way? “I don’t recall, sorry to say. But if you’re with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, why not dedicate ourselves to figuring it out?” To be honest, Thancred wanted to keep her safe - but why? She looked like a confident fighter, her long sword hanging on her back, so very close to her shield. But still - if somebody was that confident, why did they seem to walk so… unconfidently? Now, Thancred was familiar with how people walked, especially women. But the way she stepped, it was quite different then he’d expect from a warrior.  
  
Hm.  
  
Bolormaa stopped in the middle of the arena, drawing her blade. Thancred stopped, taking a deep, sharp breath. A Blade of Light, freeing him from the possession. Leaving him with injures, leaving him with memories of what he’d done. Her blade stuck into the arena, and a deep dark fog seemed to escape the ground. “…It’s not here,” Bolormaa commented, “but it was.” Retrieving her blade, it glimmered with a familiar blue-white glow - and Thancred couldn’t help but step back a little more. “Should we get going? I’m sure the others are worried.”  
  
It wasn’t just the others who were worried, as Thancred took the hand of the Xaela lady - her grip tight, even as her fingers trembled. Her teleport was skillful - barely taking a moment, to lead them outside to the North Thalanan Aetheryte, across from Raubahns’ Push. Shakily, the two land, the transport easy - even if Thancred had goosebumps on his skin, and had to make sure he was on the ground before anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rhel and K'pandolu don't belong to me, they're some of my friends' characters. Borrowed with permission.


	4. Chapter 4

While there were loud celebrations going on - after all, the Black Wolf had fallen, as had the XIVth. Eorzea was free - not everybody wished to celebrate. Oh, quite a few did - Eorzea was not only free, but it was safe!  
  
Or, of course, that’s what most people were thinking. And, truly, most people would be happy being out there. But Thancred, for his part, had returned to the Waking Sands - a drink in one hand, and a book in another. Now, he usually thought Urianger was the person who studied this kind of thing. But Urianger, well…  
  
His eyes met Uriangers’ goggled face - how far had Urianger planned - before shaking his head. If Urianger didn’t remember, then how much could he speak of this? Even before getting his memories back, though, Thancred had noticed Urianger had changed. He’d changed from, well, a rather over the top man who’d bring the dramatics to any situation to a timid, meek man who barely spoke. Even stranger is that he no longer wore his tacky sandals - ones which Moenbryda had joked about, when the three of them were younger.  
  
—Moenbryda. She would be alive, in this time. Perhaps she could get Urianger to talk - but he needed to rest after everything. Sitting down in a chair near to him, Thancred flipped open the book he’d brought with him. It was one he’d found in Mor Dhona, as he’d left Bolormaa and the other Warriors of Light there. (Though he did know they’d be coming to the Waking Sands soon - as soon as Minfilia and Alphinaud returned. Twelve, he’d love to see Minfilia again - she had been so sickly.) The ornate book, created with the finest of enchanted golden inks, had a soft title written on it. The Arnath Glyphs - the scripture of a mage from a long-lost era, who was said to be a legendary seer - able to craft magics impossible. Even if the words were said to be unreadable, Thancred had still picked it up.  
  
What he didn’t expect was the beginning of a ringing headable, as he looked at the words… quite a few of them were still unreadable, but the marks were familiar. Alongside them were ones close to the modern White Mage and Black Mage Job stones - with the single words next to them. The other words - other symbols - were unfamiliar to Thancred. One of them seemed almost like leaves, poison and nature both - Green. What sort of Magic was Green Magic - elemental? And the others - Red? Wasn’t that mostly used by Ala Mhigans, long ago…? And Blue Magic - ah, now that was one he knew quite a bit about. Not from a good point of view, but there were people who claimed to hold the power of monsters. (A little like the sylph-raised Sasaxia, except she was really more of a Dancer.)  
  
Every word he tried to read hurt - and so, Thancred closed the book. He looked over to Urianger, who’d barely seemed to notice Thancred had even sat down. No, he was there reading his own book, trying to pull his hood over his head even more. Oh, Urianger… Thancred stood - leaving for a moment before returning with some glass - for the drink, of course. Pouring them both one casually, Thancred sat back.  
  
As he sipped quietly, Thancred then heard Urianger speak up. “Have thee pondered contacting our shared Acting Antecedent? ” Urianger said, “For the lady vanished at which hour we escaped our imprisonment.” Before Urianger could finish, however, Thancred was already standing - his hands moving for the spare Linkpearls in the Linkshell. They were not only given to new members of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, but re-tuned for those who had come to stay there after Livias’ strike. But… luckily for Thancred, one near the very bottom hadn’t yet been re-tuned. If Minfilia still had hers, then he could contact her.  
  
As his fingers stroked it, he gave a nod of thanks to Urianger - before leaving, to another room. The Solar, empty. Clipping the soft pink pearl to his ear, Thancred took a deep breath, and pressed his finger to it.

* * *

“…Minfilia? Are you there?” Thancred asked, his voice confident - even if he spoke a little faster then usual.  
  
The silence on the other end was deafening - even if it only lasted a few seconds. The voice on the other end, however, was one he’d heard before. Not Minfilias’, though. Which was almost worse. “…Thancred?”  
  
It was Bolormaa. Now, there were quite a few options that Thancred could think of, for why she had her Linkpearl. Could she have simply not changed the frequency? No, that was impossible - if any of them hadn’t, then Tataru wouldn’t have done her job. Minfilia was one of those people who’d never lose her Linkpearl, either… there was one more solution he didn’t want to think about, at least for the moment. Bolormaa was the one who broke the silence, so very softly, but bringing Thancred back to reality. “You left quite early. Are you okay?”  
  
He did leave too quickly, didn’t he. To get this book and flee back to somewhere which should be safe, at least for now. “…Bolormaa. How did you get this channel?” he asked, his voice sounding even faster - a slight Limsan accent slipping though.  
  
“…I— It’s strange. I’m not wearing a Linkpearl.” Silence filled the abandoned Solar, before Bolormaa continued. “I have similar lumps in my horns, which… serve the same purpose.” As Bolormaa spoke on, her voice grew a little more timid, seeming to fade for a time - as the loud celebrations behind her also quieted. On her end, she had moved away from the celebrations. Not just, mind you, because of how rowdy it was getting.  
  
But if she wasn’t— if the Linkpearl was part of her? Thancreds’ stomach continued to drop, as his final - crazy, but seeming more and more reasonable - theory seemed to be more and more truthful. Perhaps she was actually… Thancred had to find a question she’d know, something she’d know without having to remember it. “It’s fine, Bolormaa. Sorry to make you answer some trivia, but—” Thancred couldn’t help but pause, coughing a little. Twelve, he wasn’t going to like any answer to this. “Why did you join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn?”  
  
Of course, Thancred expected the silence on the other end. No, in fact, he expected it for longer then it happened, really. “I was one of the Path of the Twelve, Thancred. I’d not say I joined— wait. Why do you wish to know this now?”  
  
“It’s important. When you were with them, how did you feel about the Beast Tribes, by any chance?” Thancred asked, flopping a little onto Minfilias’ desk. Clear of everyhing, of course. No reason ruining her work, right? But if it was her who was—  
  
Bolormaa, who was beginning to sound a little warier, took a moment to respond. “They’re no different then us Spoken - they deserve to… fight alongside us. Thancred, please explain.”  
  
Explain… it took Thancred quite some time to comprehend what this meant. This Au Ra - Bolormaa - knew things that, really, only three people would know. One of them was the Warrior of Light - and they had been remembered, all seven of them. Another had been their Path Companion - who had turned to the work of Retainership, and worked with Tataru. No, there was the third. And the third was… Minfilia. Somehow, Minfilia had become this Au Ra. Bolormaa.  
  
All that Bolormaa heard from the other end was crashing, before silence. Placing a hand to her horns, to where her own light bump seemed to be a little pink, she spoke up again. “Do you need a companion? The party… well, Yda and K’pandolu are having a wrestle… it’s a little loud.”  
  
“Please,” Thancred blurted out - for a moment, he couldn’t help but let out a shout, a scream. Twelve, just let him touch her. Let him hold her and tell her what he thought, what he wanted to do. How had this happened to his dear Minfilia, his… his family. She was at both a daughter and sister to him, and now she was an Au Ra who woke with the Warriors of Light?  
  
“I’ll return to the Waking Sands, then.” Bolormaa said, before silence rang from the Linkpearl. Thancred remained in his position - the floor, after having realised. It was quite some time until he heard a knock. With a soft opening of the door, Urianger was standing above him - holding, of course, the drink he’d poured earlier. Groaning as he kneeled, Urianger looked over Thancred - quiet as Thancred sat up. Slowly. Painfully.  
  
Urianger kindly spoke, as he remained next to his dear friend, Thancred. “...Then, thy contact with Minfilia didst not passeth as thee desired, I would wager.”  
  
All Thancred could - or wanted to do - to reply was nod. After a large gulp of his drink, he vocalised it. “Urianger, what happened when you were imprisoned?”  
  
Urianger looked away, before saying something - well, something Thancred wouldn’t understand for a moment. “...Touch my skin, masked by simple silk, and you shall see.” Thancred, for his part, reached a hand out - slipping his hand onto Uriangers’ cheek, the one not tattooed - and that same headache from the book returned. Luckily, though, he put down his drink before collapsing.

* * *

Darkness.  
  
Everywhere around Thancred was Darkness - but it was different then the Darkness he was used to. It was more like… if he couldn’t open his eyes. Aether surged around him and his body, screaming at him, pulling at him. That is, until he heard a voice. It wasn’t within Thancred - no, it was to his left.  
  
“…She’ll be returning soon. Still holding up, Tataru?”  
  
Minfilia! If Thancred would reach out, he’d want to reach out to where the voice was. But he couldn’t move - no, it’s more like he had nothing to move. A small groan - Tataru - came out, before she spoke.  
  
“You need to stop worrying about me, Minfilia! You’re—”  
  
She’s what?! If Thancred could just do anything, then… wait. Another voice, to his right. “She’s right. You’re holding up well, Minfilia. You’re not a soldier,” Papalymo said, a softness in his voice usually kept for the harshest of days for all of them.  
  
That’s when the door opened - loudly - and what sounded like a pureblooded Garlean was talking to another. “We’ll be taking this trash to Meridianum, right?”  
  
It was the next thing that he heard, though, that made his blood boil - even if it felt as if whatever he was within right now was not quite Spoken. That commanding voice from Minfilia made the whole room seem to grow cold. “I am the one you want! Leave the others be - or I will be forced to take my own life.”  
  
No. Minfilia couldn’t. As the footsteps from the imperial got closer, though— a flash of brightness broke though the Darkness Thancred was swimming in, the selfsame feeling of the last time he’d seen her - in the old times. So close to the First. But still, Thancred couldn’t see, couldn’t realise what was happening - until he felt her hand against his cheek, felt her touch, and heard a whisper.  
  
“Your sacrifice was worth the cost.”

* * *

Though it didn’t seem like it, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had quite a few beds, and bedrooms both. Thancred awoke in one of them - the closest one to the main base. Usually, it was Uriangers’ - covered in Carbuncle-esque plushes and bedding, but still so very small. Urianger sat on one of the couches, having brought their drinks in and placed them between the two. Well, the three - for Bolormaa had arrived, and had moved to sit on the base of the bed, looking over Thancred.  
  
All this situation could really call for was laughter from the one starting to shift awake in the group - and so, Thancred began to laugh. Really, what was what? He looked to Urianger, and simply mouthed a single why.  
  
Urianger closed his book, softly, and looked between Thancred and Bolormaa. “As thee may notice, some of our many members have begun to receiveth twisted mem'ries, of times long gone. Those who hold that ability - to knoweth of past and future - is it not like the Echo of the Path?” Urianger said - pausing a moment before continuing. “‘tis that I could see thee hadst that ability, Thancred - and the appearance of one who hath gained what doest not belong.”  
  
Though it took a moment for Thancred to understand, he tried not to laugh more - instead just closing his eyes. “I have the Echo,” he stated, as Urianger nodded. “And that— you knew how to activate it?”  
  
Urianger nodded again, before shyly tugging on his hood. “I simply looked to our many tomes to seek the answers, Thancred.” As Urianger re-opened his book, he let out a soft yawn, he was tired. Urianger got tired so quickly - even if the sun was also setting. And so, Thancred could turn his attention to Minfilia— Bolormaa.  
  
The Au Ra sat by the edge of the bed, her long tail seeming to swish like the waves. As Thancred peered up at her, he noticed the bumps on her horns. Near the back - seven of them, each colour coded. Like the Linkpearls Minfilia used… oh, Twelve. “You can lay down, if you want,” Thancred said, beckoning to her. He needed her touch. He needed Minfilia.  
  
After a moment, Bolormaa flopped down. “I— Urianger and I carried you here, after your Echo. Which— I didn’t know that’s what it was.” Bolormaa felt she should have - she’d had flashes of Echoes as well - to learn of this very quest. True, it had been a little awkward when she first appeared to the Warriors of Light - but, oddly enough, it had been Theodora - the most threatening of all of them... well, Theodora had accepted her into their group. And with her approval, it was a trial by fire - because, after all, all they had to do was Operation Archon. "You were out of it for about... a bell."  
  
Even the way Bolormaa wrapped her arms around Thancred, tucking them under his arms and touching her fingers together over his heart, was how Minfilia slept with him when she was younger. When she still needed that, and F'lhaminn was gone. Moving his hands over her hands, Thancred looked slightly over. "Bolormaa... I'm quite sorry I didn't explain over the Linkpearl. It's quite sensitive what I want to say--"  
  
"--And so it is better to travel to the source, instead of simply discussing it over the air waves," Bolormaa said, softly nuzzling more into his back. Thancred moved so she could rest easier, before letting out a soft grumble to her.  
  
It was a bit of a walk for either of them, but it was worth it. But soon, the Waking Sands would no longer be their base. “I have reason to think, well, you’re more then you appear,” Thancred said, brushing his hand across hers, his heart beginning to beat faster. “Only a few people shared your opinion in the Path of the Twelve - and all but one was accounted for.  
  
I think—” fear, really— “you are somehow… Minfilia Warde, our leader and my dear friend.”  
  
For a moment, Bolormaa seemed to consider this, a few soft hums coming from her slightly parted lips. Whatever she was thinking, though, it seemed to slip past her, and Bolormaa sighed. “I don’t know, Thancred. What is Minfilia like?”  
  
…Is. What is Minfilia like. That, too, was a question Thancred had to wonder. Even with this time travel, Minfilia had seemed… out of it. A little less then Thancred, mind you, but more devoted to Hydaelyn and the goal of destroying the Ascian. Even moreso then fighting the Primal threat. On the other hand, Thancred hadn’t questioned it. Did she remember as well…? He’d only just gotten these memories back, so. Yeah. On the third hand…  
  
“Minfilia was a brave young woman, who was a strong diplomat for both the Path of the Twelve, and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Even as tragedy hit us over and over - and as she was underestimated - without her, we would not have gained everything we did. She was a hard worker, and brought us all together and to where we were respected. And that wasn’t all - she was one of the first to work with the Beast Tribes - including allowing them to join us,” Thancred mused, his eyes closing as he rambled about his dear Minfilia. Bolormaa listened to every word, holding him closer.  
  
And then, she spoke, trying not to frown too much. “She sounds… wonderful. I’m afraid I don’t— I doubt think I can live up to her legacy,” Bolormaa said. “I cannot recall if I am or am not her, either — I have amnesia, Thancred. When I woke, all I could recall was a name and a duty.”  
  
A duty… almost seeming to sense Thancred wanted to know it, Bolormaa continued. “My blade is blessed by our Mother, Hydaelyn. A blade made to banish the darkness. And with it, and Her blessing… I hope to find out what my purpose is.”  
  
Bolormaa seemed a little tired, but Thancred let her pull even closer. The Carbuncle-shaped pillows were so very soft, after all - even if Thancred questioned why the rumps were more stuffed then the heads. “Bolormaa…” Thancred whispered, as he looked around the room - the lights were out, and the sun was nearly down. Urianger was comfortable sleeping sitting up - but, really? Urianger was the sort of man who either was asleep or awake. Hopefully, he’d slip into bed - but if not, Thancred lazily picked up the— oh, come on! Even the blankets were Carbuncle-esque! “If you’re not Minfilia, then, you’re rather close. We’ll find out what’s going on.”  
  
That promise seemed to be enough, and Bolormaa loosened her grip - so that Thancred could turn to face her. “Thank you, Thancred. I won’t let you down,” Bolormaa said, moving to hold him again, resting her head under his.  
  
Thancred could tell in his heart, though. This Au Ra was Minfilia. Sure, she didn’t have those memories, and she wasn’t Ala Mhigan anymore - but she also wasn’t taken by Hydaelyn, and she was here, and she was breathing and whistling so very softly against him - as she used to do, after the Calamity, as she tried to keep herself together.  
  
It didn’t take long for Thancred to fall to sleep, soon after Bolormaa, far more comfortably then he had rested with Nero. Even if the bed was a little creepier and a lot less comfortable, a lot more rested in.


	5. Chapter 5

When Thancred woke up - feeling rested, if not still a little sick from his Echo— his Echo, his vision of what had happened— there were a few things of note. Firstly, and most importantly, was that Bolormaa was still asleep gripping to him, her head buried in his chest. (There was a slight wetness on his chest - tears, he’d say.) But on his other side was Urianger - okay, maybe this was more important. Usually, Urianger kept those robes on, the selfsame he’d gotten from Louisoix as a gift when he was coming to Eorzea. Under them, well…  
  
There was some form of… rash? Over his skin, there was a purple gleam, seeming to stop just shy of his face. Gently, carefully, Thancred moved to cup Uriangers’ face - fingers moving to his beard. Above it, some of the rash was quite easy to touch… and, clearly, it was no illness. For one, illnesses didn’t have a feeling of magic to them. Unless, of course, it was touching a Tonberry. (Which, well, Theodora had once allowed him to do, while explaining the stories behind them. For a scary scholar in armour, they were quite the gentle person.) This wasn’t the feeling of a Tonberry, but it wasn’t gross and scratchy. No, it was smooch, a little like crystal. Crystal… why was all of this revolving around crystal? When she was next free, he’d need to ask Y’shtola for her advice. Or, well, he could ask Papalymo.  
  
As he rubbed though Uriangers’ beard, though, Thancred couldn’t help but lay a kiss on Uriangers’ forehead - a soft quick one, his lips gently resting on the soft, sweet Elezen. As he pulled away, though, Urianger was awake. His golden eyes focused on Thancred, and slightly shook his head. Enough to get Thancreds’ hand away, at least.  
  
With a soft smile, Thancred looked into Uriangers’ eyes. “Decided to join us, hm?”  
  
Urianger, though, looked past Thancreds’ face, his beaming face - to his hair. And the mess of feathers mixed in. You see, Thancred was no Hyur. Though he stood similar to one - oh, how he looked like one - feathers were under his hair, and two wing-like outgrowths curled around his head. The feathers from his head continued onto the top of his chest - quite a bit like the feathery fluff around his wrists and ankles. Those clumps of feathers on his arms, of course, could expand to allow Thancred to glide - and his hands were more like talons, as were his feet.  
  
In other words, he was a young Siren, still not desperate for the same food as the fully grown Siren. He still had only small bumps on his back where his extra wings would grow, and a long, peacock-esque tail. (And, of course, Thancred tended to show off his tail quite a bit to others.) The other Scions of the Seventh Dawn - and the Warriors of Light - were quite familiar with this. But Urianger couldn’t help but give a small frown at the mess of feathers. “…How do thy keep these tamed in shine and gloom?”  
  
Softly, Thancred planted another kiss on Urianger. Sure, Urianger had his girlfriend, but he also had affection from him. And Urianger would need to deal with it. “Grooming,” Thancred said. “Something you’re quite unfamiliar with.”  
  
Swiftly, Urianger stood from bed - his long hair reaching down to his soft gown, quite messily. Giving a courtesy nod to Thancred and the half-awake Bolormaa, he left to get changed. Even if it was his room, there were guests. As Urianger left, though, Thancred could see more of that strange rash. All down his legs… over his arms… just what was it? He’ll need to ask. But, a soft yawn came from near him - Bolormaa.  
  
Gently reaching one of the arms off of him - and noticing, a little late, that her horns had left a little mark on his chest - Bolormaa moved to sit up. “Good morning, Thancred,” she said, “did you get a good sleep?”  
  
Thancred nodded, stretching himself. “As good as I could.”  
  
A little awkwardly, Bolormaa looked away from him. “…Last night, I. I think I dreamed about… Minfilia. The lady you spoke about.  
  
…Me.”  
  
Tilting his head, Thancred couldn’t help but smile. “What did you dream about?” he asked, as he stood to examine himself. Luckily, he… didn’t have too much damage.  
  
Bolormaa, though, tried to avert her gaze - placing her hands over her chest. “…There was… a large sea serpent. Sahagin also stood around - some of them sl— slaughtered by others. But they had tried to kill the others there. You were there, Thancred.  
  
But a Roegadyn shot their leader. It was— revived, but swallowed by the serpent. The ability to transcend bodies - that is what I witnessed, Thancred.”  
  
Thancred gulped to himself. Leviathan - the sea serpent. If she had dreamed of that, did that mean that somewhere deep within her, she also remembered the future? Trying to mask these thoughts - again - Thancred kept turned away. “It is. We have quite a bit of knowledge about the Echo - it was yo—” he began, before stopping. Really, if she preferred another name, what was he to protest? After all, she was born Ascilla. And… maybe it’d be better if he didn’t call her the same as Minfilia - even if he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. “—Minfilias’ life study, to understand her Echo and bring those with it together - for a brighter dawn.”  
  
…And she’d found it. Even if Thancred disliked what she’d found - and, oh, what he’d do for her. In his mind, he’d already decided. If there’s a chance to bond with Bolormaa as he did with Minfilila? He’d do it. But then, he pauses. “Bolormaa, I never asked. What do you want to do with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn? Other then finding your duty with your blade.”  
  
“Well,” Bolormaa said, as she slipped off her own top - glad Thancred was looking away, as she picked up her daytime dress, “For the time being, I’ve been working with Alphinaud to help as a leader. He’s… a smart young man, but he could stand to worry less. And he’s, well, a bit of a nerd…”  
  
Alphinaud - Thancred hadn’t touched base with him post-possession - and he hadn’t seen Alisaie at all. Then again, she wasn’t the sort to hang around the Scions in the past. She’d be fine. But Alphinaud being a smart young man? Full of worry? It seemed like he may have remembered, at the very least. As Thancred turned back, Bolormaa was dressed once more. “Isn’t he? Why, I’m surprised he hasn’t run off to find Estinien while you all ran around in the snow.”  
  
“Actually, he did leave us for a time…” Bolormaa said, moving to get a little closer to Thancred, “with Blieraux. But they refused to talk about what happened. Do you think he went to meet with this… Estinien?”  
  
It would make sense. Thancred nodded to her, before giving her a little ruffle of her long, long hair. "Let's just hope he remembered," Thancred mused, "or Alphinaud might have another bruised ego." Or more - which is what worried Thancred. If Alphinaud gave that many details to the Azure Dragoon, there might be misunderstandings between the two. The sort of misunderstandings that ended with a spear. "Well, from what I remember, we have a bit of time to kill before the next threat - and, actually, us Scions will be moving to Mor Dhona. Far away from the manipulations of... Ul'dah and the Monetarists."  
  
At the mere mention of them, Bolormaa seemed to squirm a little - slowly moving towards the door. "Y-yes. I'll aid with the moving - and do my best."

* * *

Meanwhile, on the outskits of said Mor Dhona, Nero tol Scaeva had made his camp. He expected to recruit some of the Warriors of Light, and some other randoms, for the quest to the Crystal Tower. But, for now, he wanted to see it for himself. The barriers remained erect, still not broken by sand and crystal both. It really was a hack, wasn't it, that'd gotten them in there? Not the intended way at all. Honestly, for Nero, it had been acceptable letting them use the crafted fangs to enter and disable the defenses - but there had to be another way. A proper way. Though the reflection was quite fun.  
  
Tossing a stone in the direction of the sleeping devices, a strong elemental beam destroyed it - as if nothing was left. Now that felt good to Nero - as he shuddered, Nero couldn't help but grin. And was that a little scream?  
  
Wait, no. The rock didn't scream. It came from behind him - as Nero turned, he couldn’t help but smirk. Behind him was not only Cid, but his dear Biggs and Wedge. The very ones he expected - especially since that scream could only come from the Lalafell of that group. And… another Roegadyn? A rather dark-skinned one, a white beard stroking his chin. His gear seemed very scholary - all together, he seemed like the sort of man who handed out merit stickers, not the sort he’d expect to be in this kind of place. (He was, however, further back - considering that the man, who was Rammbroes, was simply overseeing what Cid and his Ironworks were to discover, it made more then enough sense that he stayed back.)  
  
Now, Nero knew that on one hand, he could simply tell Cid what he knew, and be kind. But if he did that, he’d be even more queer then the Nero that Cid was expecting - the spite-filled man who lusted for power. Not to say Nero wasn’t still spiteful, but… honestly, forgetting what he’d done? That was a little pitiable. A little. But still, he began to approach Cid - and he hadn’t even taken a step forward!  
  
“Now, now,” Nero said, “is that a way to greet an old friend?”  
  
Cid gave a small gesture to Biggs and Wedge - a mix of dread and asking them to stay back, with just one of his hands. The one covered in his black glove. “Friend? Nero, you— you brought on Ultima Weapon! You could have doomed us all!” Cid snarled - quite unfamiliar to his lips - and moved down the cliffs if only the smallest bit towards Nero.  
  
There were many ways Nero could reply to Cid - but, for once, he didn’t wish to be the cruelest he could be. Why? Nero wasn’t sure either - was it because he’d seen this before? “I could have - you think so highly of me? And of it? Ultima Weapon was barely able to level the area around it,” Nero stated, so very coldly. It was true. “Besides. If we were all doomed, what would I do? Believe it or not, Garlond, I’d rather not die.” As Nero spoke, he crossed the gap between the two - looking down at that damned Garlond and his damned messy but perfect hair. If he wasn’t trying to not be as much as an asshole, Nero would just be fussing with that hair, he was sure.  
  
Cid, however, didn’t like this. Not at all. Nero was hiding something, that much was clear. “…What are you doing here,” Cid stated, reaching for his electronic cigarette. Sometimes, the situation called for it.  
  
“Well,” Nero said, casually watching as Cid messed with his bulky glove, “after everything, I thought I’d set my eyes on something from those old folk tales you always dismissed. The Tower of Hope? It seems it was a secondary name for the Crystal Tower, the jewel of the Third Allagan Era - a very rare one, from when it was still being built.”  
  
Nero was bullshitting, and Cid could see though it. On the other hand - an ancient Allagan tower? With towers that turned rocks to nothingness? That sounded more like the Nero he supposed Nero had become. Before he could say anything else, though, Nero got out a small piece of paper. Casually, out of his pocket. “If it’s the same to you, Garlond? I believe I’ve already staked my claim here. So unless you want to join me—”  
  
“You’ve done no such thing,” Cid stated so very clearly. Even if the Sons of Saint Coinach hadn’t decided to investigate, that’d be his answer. Looking straight at the unmasked Nero, Cid added, “and if you’re interested, then I’ll make sure you can’t use it for ill intent.”  
  
Ill intent? Sure, Nero had wanted that once. And sure, Nero was still curious about the Void. But if it was up to him, and not his mind slipping back to Doga, Unei and especially G’raha - he’d be off seeking Omega instead of being here. And that’s when Nero presented the paper to Cid.  
  
“A forgery,” was all Cid could say to it. Even if it was properly notarized… how in the seven Hells could Nero, of all people, have an employees contract with the Garlond Ironworks? Nero gave a little smirk.  
  
“Is that what you think, Garlond? Why, I could go and ask Jessie,” Nero said, trying his very best to not lean and smirk over the smaller Garlean, “and mention the cost it’d take to get past these rather deadly defenses.”  
  
Cid breathed out heavily on his magitek cigarette, smoke blowing towards Nero. Just what was Nero doing? But instead of Cid talking, Wedge let out a soft whimper - Neros’ head snapping at the voice. “What happened to that rock?!”  
  
Something about Wedge… it made Nero feel a little more… soft-hearted? No, that wasn’t it. Tsking slightly, Nero looked back to the defenses. “These sleeping sentinels are quite apt at keeping their nap time going. If you were to get that close? Why, that’s your fate.” As he spoke, Nero grabbed out another rock and flung it forward - so it’d become nothing as well. Cid looked from the hiding Lalafell, to the statues, and shook his head.  
  
“There has to be a way though - and I won’t let you solve it, Nero,” Cid stated, as he walked past Nero. Of course he’d be studying it, Nero thought - what a waste of time! He’d discover he’d need to neutralize it - and then… hm.  
  
Nero internally smirked to himself, closing his eyes. “I’ll leave you to this little puzzle, then.” But as Nero passed Biggs - who gave a sour look - and Wedge? He couldn’t help but give Wedge a little nod. “I’ll just say? If you end up needing to hire adventurers, get some which won’t be scared of cultists.”  
  
His words, which seemed cryptic to the others around them, were all Nero left them with. He had aethersand to acquire.

* * *

The search for aethersand was one Nero had not witnessed in full. He’d overheard some of it, of course - but he wanted to seek it out himself. Now that Cid had settled himself into finding his way, Nero supposed he’d need to find another time to find the proper way in. Sure, he could go and stop Cid from wasting his time - but on the other hand, it was Cid. Wasting time was what he was known for, other then running away and becoming a folk hero to Garlemald. To be quite honest, Nero was sure he was seen as dead. As were his parents, but he never cared for them. Not as much as he could have, mind you. They raised him, but they seemed satisfied with remaining farmers - not living a life of glory. On the other hand, they supported him.  
  
In other words, Nero didn’t want them dead. Which, really, was the highest compliment he could give anybody. But where, exactly, would he go to seek the aethersand in question? Nero had a little idea of how it was created, and just how rare it was. It was said that gatherers - botanists, miners and fishers - could get it from rare items which appeared at certain times. The purity had to be flawless, however, to carve up flawless crystal.  
  
…And Nero, for his part, knew where the ore could be located. After his debate with the Alchemists’ Guild, he’d been spending some time in Ul’dah, seeing what he could discover. Who knew, the desert sands might hold more answers to care for dear Ultima and Omega, he had thought. (That, and the beginning of his odd memories - memories which were true - had surfaced.) While North Thanalan was mostly controlled by Garlemald, Nero had climbed high to seek vantage points - rare ores, and the such.  
  
And so, Nero set out. The trip would take… not long at all, if he was honest - though there were still men in the broken Castrum. Of course, going though with superior firepower would remind them who he was. He was their boss - the highest-ranking Tribunus who survived. At least, he hoped so. If Gaius survived, now that’d be a little annoying. Imagine it - he’d need to explain his actions! Lazily yawning, Nero moved towards his resting Red Baron. “Hello, lovely. We’ll be heading to North Thanalan - you’d best not protest,” Nero whispered as he climbed into the cockpit. Unlike most Magitek Reapers, Nero had customized his cockpit - it would only respond to him right now, or those he gave permission. And thankfully to the Garlean, the Red Baron had no mammet core. Having a living automation, and trusting one? Now that’d be disgusting.  
  
As always, the Red Baron roared to life, Nero feeling like he didn’t even need to touch the controls to guide the machine. Placing his hand to them, however, his fingers began to glow a deep blue again. Again, nothing Nero was worried for, for it was something which always happened. Usually, he’d be wearing gloves, but… nobody who mattered would be seeing this.  
  
Nero, of course, gave a little glance to Reverents’ Toll as he passed it. As he thought, he could see a few of those Scions of the Seventh Dawn beginning to move their things into their new base - the Waking Sands, was it? So very close to an aetheryte. Among them, his eyes seemed to focus on that young Elezen. Alphinaud, if he recalled correctly. (Not his feisty twin sister.) For a moment, Nero could feel a grand power emanating from Alphinaud - no. That wasn’t what he was meant to focus on. Unlike a certain other Garlean, Nero tried to focus on one project at a time.

* * *

The travel into North Thanalan hadn’t been too eventful. Other then the Scions, Nero’d seen a few Malboro, a few of those annoying Gigantoads - oh, and a few even more annoying Imperials. One had even scratched his Magitek! They’d soon fallen to his surperior firepower, but, still. Had they forgotten who he was? Nero was wearing his armour, except for his helmet.  
  
The climb up to where he remembered the ore, however, had been much less… fruitful. At first, it’d gone well - there were so many crystals poking out of the daunting cliffs, it hadn’t taken much effort to climb up them - his Magitek left behind. The air south of Ishard, and outside of Ala Mhigan territory… it really wasn’t suited for flight. And, so, Nero sat between two crystals - looking upwards. It wasn’t far, but at the same time? Nero’d never really been much of a climber. And why? Really, why would he be. Still, Nero reached out, standing—  
  
—and as if his thoughts triggered it, he fell with not just a loud thud, but a slight tremor. Cursing under his breath in the dead Allagan language, Nero looked up - the crystal shattered. It must have been weak, but then- Nero heard a voice from behind him.  
  
“What colourful language!”  
  
It was a voice Nero hadn’t expected to hear this early - the voice of one G’raha Tia. The chirp of his voice didn’t fade as he stepped towards the grounded Nero - reaching a hand out. “Need a hand there?”  
  
Nero snarled to himself. Of course he didn’t— wait. Nero couldn’t seem to move. Was he actually hurt? Looking around, no. His limbs were fine - pushing upwards with his arms, G’raha let out a gasp - and seemed to rush to Neros’ back, trying to help him stand. The second thing Nero could feel was wrong - other then his lack of movement in his legs - was a cooling liquid over his back. Well, over the lower half of his back. The upper half had a little bit of a lack of… feeling. Lazily, he looked over to G’raha - oh, wow. He’d never seen such a horrified face from him, even when Nero was getting lost to the Void. A soft whimper came from the Miqo’tes lips, before G’raha had to ask…  
  
“You’re really fine?”  
  
“Of course I am!” Nero said, moving to steady himself against the wall of the cliff. “What do you think I did…” he added, before trailing off - for a trail of purple-blue ooze went from him, to a rather sharp rock. A painful rock, with ooze gripping it - and G’raha looking to the trail as well. The two red eyes of the Miqo’te—  
  
—wait. Two red eyes? Nero could worry about the ooze later. “‘raha! You’re still nice and awake!” Nero said, feeling his legs wobbling as he struggled to remain standing. G’raha moved a little closer - a little cautious - ears pricked up.  
  
Mostly, G’raha didn’t want to touch the— blood? Was it blood? If it wasn’t, just what was it? He knew Nero was strange, but this? Normally, he’d just blame it on Garlean, but he’d seen Neros’ entire body open. Shaking his head, G’raha tsked. “Something stopped my nap time, I’m afraid to say,” he said as he leaned next to Nero, “and I almost thought it was one of you. But you wouldn’t dump me in Sharlayan, now would you?”  
  
“Shaylayan?” Nero said, snorting. “I’d rather leave you for dead in the middle of Garlemald.”  
  
His tail swishing, G’raha looked up at Nero - offering his hand again. “…Does it hurt?” he couldn’t help but ask.  
  
For a moment, Nero paused - right, the… back injury. And the lack of feeling in his legs - finally, Nero let himself slide to the ground, sitting, letting the ooze stick to him. G’raha remained standing - now looking down at Nero, peering at the hole. “You’ll think I’m crazy, ‘raha, but it really doesn’t,” Nero stated. After a slight pause - silence from the two of them under the starry moonless sky - Nero began to laugh. “It’s really abnormal. I’m not dead. And all I wanted was some bloody aethersand!”  
  
So, Nero didn’t seem to know he wasn’t bleeding like any other Spoken would. Not… the ooze which seemed to twist and shift on the ground, the smallest bit. Shimmering under the stars. Nero then spoke again, looking to G’raha. “You Miqo’te are quite agile, right? The ore’s up there - quite visible, if you know what to look at.”  
  
Since G’raha had, after all, collected and refined ore before from Urths’ Front. Giving a little pleased expression, G’raha nodded to himself. (Better then focusing on… that injury.) “I’ll be back anon - don’t move, okay?” G’raha said - before beginning to look up the cliffside. Quite a few of the crystal growths weren’t looking too solid - too dangerous for even a Miqo’te to pounce on. Looking from one to the other - ah. That’d make a good path.  
  
Nero, for his part, watched as G’raha jumped from the Red Baron - across crystal and rock alike - landing on the slight flat lands above, toes pointed. Hah - if it was anybody else, Nero’d love to see him fall. But it’s G’raha Tia, somebody who studied and studied but then ended up gaining his worth from bloodline alone. And those damned red Allag Eye - sometimes, Nero wondered why they seemed to calm him.  
  
Trying to stand again, Nero groaned - before he felt that same cooling liquid begin to… climb his back. Curiously, Nero touched some of the ooze in his fingers. Familiar. Like what he’d craft, or give to machines to repair them. But why had it come from him? The obvious, in this case, was something Nero couldn’t consider. Wouldn’t consider.  
  
For he was Nero tol Scaeva, and he was a proud Garlean. Not… something this ooze would come from alone. Perhaps he’d gotten some sort of it stuck between his skin and armour? Or maybe he was seeing things. As the cooling sensation began to tingle, though, Nero could relax… oh, how he could relax.  
  
That is, until G’raha jumped down again, holding the handful of Radiant Wind Moraine. By that time, the ground was not only dry of blood, but Nero could feel his legs again. Well, until the Miqo’te landed on them, sitting with a cat-like grin. “This is quite the sample, Nero - and you’re able to do something with this?”  
  
As Nero shifted - G’raha darting off his legs when he realised where he was - he smirked. “Come closer to my adorable Red Baron, ‘raha - and I’ll show you,” Nero stated, as he stood - ow. His back still felt a little sore, and there was still a little breeze - to be fair, his armour had been pierced.  
  
G’raha could see why. Not just why, but could see… well, Neros’ back was repairing itself, as he moved. Ooze turned solid and to flesh, vanishing into his body. Trying not to comment - there would be time later - he followed Nero to the Magitek. Nero sat down, after retrieving a small kit from the Magiteks’ cockpit - placing it on the ground.  
  
His hands were almost too fast to follow - but Nero held one out for the Radiant Wind Moraine. After G’raha handed it over, Nero nodded. “Thank you. Now, some Alchemists I won’t mention think that aethersand is impossible to craft out of this dirt and soil - that you need to find less pure ore. But they’re wrong - unless you call me a liar?”  
  
Moving his hands away from the mess, there was… pure wind-aspected aethersand. Not just pure, but flawless. G’raha stared from it, to Nero, before grinning. “That’d show them. But, Nero… what are you going to do with it? Are you really going to just hand it over to Cid and the Sons?” he asked - though, honestly, G’raha already had guessed the answer.  
  
Nero burst out laughing again. “I was thinking of making him beg for it,” he began, before going a little quieter, “or… maybe only giving it over if he let me come in. He doesn’t remember, ‘raha…” Nero mumbled, especially the last bit - resting his head against the Red Baron. Cid nan Garlond had forgotten their adventures, had forgotten his sacrifices, had forgotten… “Omega.”  
  
“Omega?” G’raha asked, ears perking up. Now that sounded a little familiar.  
  
Nero beckoned G’raha again, standing up. “We should head back to Mor Dhona - I’ll explain Omega Weapon and what happened while you lazed around.” Nero climbed into the Red Baron - G’raha sitting on the back of the quite impressive Reaper - and the two began the walk back to Mor Dhona.  
  
As the walk began, though, Nero closed his eyes. As usual, he was far too relaxed piloting blind. “After you fell asleep, ‘raha, I decided I’d seek out more ancient Allagan machines. I had an itch, and it couldn’t be solved alone.  
  
It was around the back of Mor Dhona, the Carteneau Flats, where Omega slumbered. Not only that, but quite a few ruins and tomestones both. Something happened there - Omega had helped to put Bahamut away, but got damaged in the fight - deep under there, my dearest was recovering.”  
  
His dearest. G’raha nodded silently - his voice quiet as he replied. “Yes - sealing away Bahamut in Dalamud, to help Allag improve in their own way. Records of Omega stopped then - if they hadn’t, I doubt the Allagan Empire would have fallen when it did.”  
  
“A good point,” Nero said, as he leaned back a little - head closer to G’raha. “Anyway, after finding them, I couldn’t restore their controls alone. But over with those heroes - well, they had a Primal which was contained. Alas, for some reason, they didn’t want to help me use Omega against it at first! And it was even trapped in a lesser sphere, almost like Bahamut!”  
  
“But you made them, somehow,” G’raha stated.  
  
“The somehow was shaming them. Not even Allag abused their heroes this far—” Nero began, before pausing, opening his eyes slightly. No, wait, they’d turned Phlegethon into a slave and broken him. If Garlemald was truly the modern Allagan Empire, then Phlegethon may have been the ancient version of a Warrior of Light - or, at least, an Ala Mhigan rebel. “—but Garlond and I restored at least the controls to wake up Omega.”  
  
A moment passed. And then another, as the clanking of the Red Baron filled the air. “…And then what?” G’raha asked, finding himself sliding into the cockpit besides Nero.  
  
Nero looked to his side, and then back to the road, and let out a little hiss to himself. “We don’t know. That’s the issue - after the button was pressed and the two Primal clashed? I didn't even get to press it!” Nero added, because really - he knew it had been their choice. The soul used as a prison - maybe he should try and meet up with that Yda lady - was disturbing. “Anyway, that’s when I woke up in the past, and when you— well, I’d imagine it’s when you woke up.”  
  
It made little sense to G’raha - what could have Omega done? On the other hand, it’s an idea of what happened. And so, he gave a soft murgh, beginning to kneed his hands against his knees. “And here I thought you’d finally lived up to Allags’ technology, Nero!”  
  
Nero pouted, as they passed the entrance to the Castrum. After all, the last time he’d taken out imperials here, most of them fled. Except for the one who liked to sit around and play Triple Triad, but he was no threat. “And you’re saying that I’d teleport you back, somehow, instead of leaving you with maybe a dress and a tiara.”  
  
“I’m saying,” G’raha says, leaning heavily on Nero, “that I don’t think I’ll be sleeping until we can figure out what Omega did. And… I trust you to get though it, Nero.”  
  
Trust. Somebody… trusted Nero tol Scaeva. Nero gave a soft groan - trying to mask the softest of blush on his cheeks. Why would somebody trust him? For all Nero knew, he was going to betray G’raha - and everybody - as soon as something else powerful caught his attention. It’s just how he was! And yet, Nero felt himself leaning back against G’raha, looking him in the eyes. “We still need to secure the Crystal Tower, and the surrounding area. Otherwise, we might end up destroyed by the Cloud of Darkness - and this time, I doubt they’d let us escape with only two losses.”  
  
Right, because Nero’d been in the Void. G’raha smiled at Nero, letting his tail wrap around him lazily. “And for that, we’ll need the aethersand. Not that it’s the only thing we’ll be working on - I met somebody on the boat here, and…”  
  
“And what?” Nero asked, a slight concern entering his voice.  
  
“And she convinced me that I should at least aid the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, if anything Allagan comes up.”


	6. Chapter 6

Back at the Waking Sands, packing up to move to Mor Dhona had begun. Alphinaud - as avoidant as he’d been since whatever had happened in Coethas - had ordered it. Just as it had been before, except without Minfilia and without needing to seek out F'lhaminn. “You really need to lift with your legs, Thancred!” Yda said, looking from Thancred to the many, many packed away boxes. They had to move them at least to the stairs, so that the movers could get them to the caravans.  
  
“Not all of us have muscles like you, Yda,” Thancred stated, casually, “but thank you.” Ever since returning to this past, though, Thancred worried about the pugilist. With Papalymo coming back to life— did Yda remember what happened? That she seemed so close to dropping that mask? He had noticed, for one, that she’d begun to wear a scarf over her neck, and slightly longer shorts. (Not that, mind you, Thancred was looking there on purpose. It was just curious.)  
  
Yda let out a small chirp, as she dropped one of the heavier boxes. “You should get some muscles! You’d train up well, Thancred!” she said, walking a little towards him. “Think about it - you’re a good jumper, and you’re a good stabber, but you could be a good puncher and kicker as well! Especially with your talons—”  
  
“You know I keep my shoes on in public, Yda,” Thancred said, so very indigently. Unlike most Beast Tribes, young Siren could pass as one of the six— well, seven races so very easily. Curl their head-wings around their heads, gloves over their hands and feet, and make sure to keep their feathers nice and tidy. It wasn’t like the more monster-looking ones - sure, Sylph could pass with glamour, and others could become friendly with the seven races. But they were still seen as monsters by most. (Not by Louisoix, though…)  
  
Yda huffed, nuzzling up to Thancred a little - ew, he was a bit sweaty. “I didn’t say it’d be in public! Even if it’s like you have little knives on your hands.” Softly, Yda reached for his hands - gently touching them. Gloves with glamours built in, huh. “Must have been expensive.”  
  
Slightly fluffing up, Thancred began to lead Yda to a seat. Might as well take a break while they talked, right? Especially since, well, she seemed… even more out of it then usual. “…You gave them to me, remember?”  
  
“Right, right,” Yda said, continuing to touch them. Before pausing. “I did, didn’t I? Right, and you cried over it!” she continued, before resting her masked head on him. Though, as Thancred tried to move her mask a little, Yda let out a little huff at him.  
  
Maybe she didn’t… he had to ask. It was almost good that Papalymo wasn’t around right now - having made his way forward to the Rising Stones, as one of the first. “Yda…” Thancred began, slipping off his gloves - letting his feathers flop out. “Has this happened before for you?”  
  
…Of course, Yda couldn’t answer simply. She shook her head. “No? We haven’t talked like this, and— there’s still black dye in your feathers?” Yda asked, beginning to stroke the longer feathers hanging from his arm. “Wow, that Paragon must have been pretty hardcore in dying ‘em, huh?”  
  
…Yeah, Lahabrea had even dyed his feathers black, except for the ones on his head. They felt like a curse - Thancred had washed for ages. Pulling away a little, he looked straight at her. “He dyed all of them, you know. Even down where nobody’d see it,” Thancred mused, rubbing his eyes a little. Urgh, it felt a little weird around the tips of his eyes. “But, no. I meant - moving bases.”  
  
Yda seemed to pause, her fingers rubbing though his feathers more - moving to his wrists. “Well, er…” she said, her lips seeming to tremble, “sort-of? I mean, we didn’t always have a base here, back before Minfilia mixed us together.  
  
Speaking of, do you know where Minfilia went?”  
  
Now, normally, Thancred would answer her. But he could tell - she was changing the subject. Nobody else was left in the room - except for Urianger, and he knew. And so, Thancred lowered his voice - a melody in his tone. “ _Lyse_. Stop this.”  
  
…That got her attention. Yda- no, Lyse suddenly sat up straight, pulling away from Thancred a little - her hands going to the scarf around her neck. “—Thancred. You know that I don’t like being called that.”  
  
Softly, Thancred nodded, though continued speaking with a soft tune to his voice. “Please tell me the truth. I’m sorry, but— there’s something going on, and I need to know if we’re on the same page.” Thancred could feel Lyse beginning to relax a little on him, before… a soft glow filled the room.  
  
Instead of Lyse being there, hanging on his side, there was a Sylph. A rather cute Sylph, with golden freckles and many frilled leaves making up the Sylphs’ ‘dress’. Where there’d usually be a small levin jewel, there was instead a small white stone, with a single awkwardly scratched mark. A moment passed, and the Sylph spoke - and straight away, Thancred knew. It… was Lyse? “…Thancred… This One remembers it. I think… it is good if we’re on the same page as well,” she said, resting on his lap, continuing to play with his wrists.  
  
“…You’re a Sylph.” Thancred didn’t even feel like he should question it - but Lyse nodded.  
  
“…Yes. Was given to Hext One when was podling. Am knowing why, but it's a secret,” Lyse said, “and I… Papalymo knows too, you know. But it has to be biggest secret.”  
  
Thancred couldn’t help it - with his ungloved talon, he began to stroke though her leafy back - oh! There were some dry dead leaves in here. As he picked them out casually, Lyse seemed to relax a little. That is, until Thancred whispered. “…Do you remember the events of Baelsar’s Wall?”  
  
The whimper from Lyse could be heard echoing for a moment, before she nodded. “I woke up and I saw Papalymo and freaked out but he didn’t know? But I did. I… knew everything that was happening, Thancred.”  
  
—Everything. His hand tightening around Lyse a little, Thancred then sighed. “Why didn’t you try and tell us?” he asked.  
  
Lyse shook her head, even as she leaned back into the scratches and niceness. As she talked, she moved to his other arm - removing the glove and beginning to groom his other wrist. “I tried to. But nobody seemed to believe me? I was going to warn you about the dark crystal, but me and Papalymo were busy - and then nobody believed the Scions were going to be raided by the Empire?”  
  
Thancred sighed. He did recall the way Lyse had looked at them - tilting her head a lot, seeming to speak out of turn - but he’d thought it was just Lyse. “It’s okay, Lyse,” he whispered, resisting the urge to groom her with his teeth. But the mess of leaves of her head seemed so very messy, and she was busy with his talons… no. Urianger was still here, and Thancred liked to think he was a Spoken. “We can work together from now on - you won’t need to worry about being the only one.”  
  
Lyse let out a small squeak of happiness, until quite suddenly, they heard… a scream. A Roegadyn scream, followed quite quickly by the front door of the Waking Sands slamming open. Standing with a start, Thancred didn’t mind his talons were out, his tail puffed up, darting across the wooden ground. Oddly enough, Urianger had also begun to move.  
  
Well, it only seemed odd until the three - Lyse hovering behind them - saw who it was. Moenbryda was there, at the bottom of the stairs, a mix of a grin and a pained look painted on her face.  
  
Urianger kneeled down to her, offering a hand, and Moenbryda took it. “Geeze, when Tataru said there were a few boxes in the way, didn’t think she meant that!” she laughed, as Urianger helped her get to her feet - shakily, Moenbryda looked to the group. Before being pounced by the freckled Sylph.  
  
“You’ve gone Sylph!” Moenbryda said, wrapping Lyse in her arms. “Cute as always!”  
  
Lyse pouted. “This One is not cute!” she protested, even as she relaxed into the hold. “But— yes. Um, do you remember…?”  
  
“Can that wait?” Moenbryda asked, as she looked to Thancred and Urianger. “I could use a drink or two.”

* * *

Urianger hadn’t packed his room away - for this building was to be his. In fact, he’d moved to a larger room - having moved all his Carbuncle-themed goods to the room. Around their round table, Moenbryda was relaxing a little - with Lyse hovering between her and Thancred, poking at each of their hair. Thancred had removed his boots as well, letting his leg talons stretch out. Heck, he was even letting his head wings slump a little, instead of keeping them tightly wrapped around his head. Holding a frothy mug of whatever they had left in the soon-to-be mostly abandoned Waking Sands, Moenbryda couldn’t help but frown at the crew. Urianger sat next to her, as well, between her and Thancred at the rounded Carbuncle Table.  
  
“…So, _anyway_ , that’s when I woke up back in Sharlayan, after what I did to that damned Ascian. And, once again, everything was like it was when I was a kid, things kept happening like before - so there was no way I was staying,” Moenbryda said, taking a drink as she finished. “Took the first boat I could out of there, and met with a pretty cute Miqo’te.”  
  
Thancred raised an eyebrow. “Cute, hm? And how cute was he?”  
  
That got a laugh out of Moenbryda, and she leaned back, looking Thancred right in the eyes. “On a scale of 1-10, he was about a 7.8. But he’s out of your league - he’s coming to Eorzea to go to sleep.” Moenbryda looked back to the table, and rolled her eyes. “Something about hope and Allag? Two things I don’t think go together, but he sure seemed passionate.”  
  
To be fair, Moenbryda wasn’t interested in Allagan history too much. No, she was much more interested in her own study… and, now, she looked to her hands. Much like Urianger, she had a strange rash on them. “Do any of you know about this?” she asked, getting straight down to business. Well, it’d been about a bell since she’d arrived, but that didn’t matter.  
  
Urianger let out a little groan, trying to avert his gaze - of course, Moenbryda looked straight to him. When he didn’t answer, Moenbryda cleared her throat. “Taken by my beauty? If anybody here knew anything, it’d be you - I’ll wait.”  
  
As Urianger didn’t speak, though, Thancred looked to the Roegadyn. “He has it too - all down his face and legs, at least,” Thancred said, rubbing at his eyes again. They kept feeling itchy - and as he moved his hand, Lyse was right up staring at his face. Quite creepily - her skin looked quite soft, but there was an odd smell coming from the Sylph. After a moment, though, Lyse fluttered backwards - giving a little frown.  
  
Lyse then went to Moenbryda, touching her hands - Moenbryda letting the Sylph turn them over, seeing the crystal on her palms. “…Thancred has the same rash as you, Moon One,” Lyse said - giving a soft little whine at the end of it. Now, while Lyse was raised by Spoken, she still slipped back into Sylphish speech patterns sometimes. Perhaps it was natural?  
  
Within a moment, Thancred had gotten out a mirror, to look at his face. And… there was a slight darkness outside of the usual raccoon-esque eye mask he had. Moving a single claw to touch it… yes, it was the same. Hm.  
  
Lyse looked between them, as Moenbryda looked back to her hands. “I woke up with it,” she said, “when I— came back to life.”  
  
Finally, though, Urianger spoke up. His voice seemed shaky, and his gaze was still averted. “Marks of our sins, from the future yet to be changed,” Urianger stated, as he slipped off his hood. “A mark which shall fade, once we change what happened.”  
  
Though Urianger didn’t seem to know it, Moenbryda nodded to herself. Before moving her chair closer to him… and looking Urianger straight in the face, avoiding the rash on the rest of his head. While his hair was still messy and long, his ears seemed to be coated in it. It was almost lucky it didn’t hurt. “So you did do this. Or at least, something connected to it.”  
  
Damn. Moenbryda always knew what Urianger had done - and could see though his nervousness and lies. Letting out a deep sigh, Urianger looked to the group - even Lyse, who’d taken to examining the rash on him as well. “I knoweth not the answers - one question I still ponder. What twist of time hast alter'd our paths - hath brought us near?” Urianger said - putting a hand to Moenbryda.  
  
…Perhaps, this time, he’d be able to study with her longer. Softly, as his lips turned to a smile, Urianger gave a firm nod. “If 't be true some of us art awakening to memories of the future, it may relate to the Primal Y'shtola did study in the Dravanian Forelands.”  
  
Oh. Right - those records would have gone to Urianger, even after—  
  
—Even after his schemes with the Warriors of Darkness. It was Lyse, however, who spoke up - a little curious. “D’you think that the Primals we ended are still around? I mean, with Papalymo around and all… oh, I made myself sad.”  
  
Thancred put a talon out, and Lyse went back to being stroked. “A lot happened after… what happened to you, Moenbryda,” Thancred explained, “and I think it would be best for us if Urianger filled you in later.”  
  
Urianger looked over at Thancred, a soft pinkness crossing his cheeks. “Best for— us?”  
  
Laughing, Moenbryda put a hand to Uriangers’ other cheek, stroking his tattoo slightly. “Come on, you can’t be that dense,” Moenbryda said, rubbing his cheek a little. “But just in case you are? I died, Urianger - and I’m not gonna let myself do that again, unless Eorzea needs another hero.”  
  
That. That was what Urianger needed to suddenly grip to Moenbryda, standing just so he could fall onto her with a tight hold and a soft smile. His goggles slid up his head as he gripped onto her, revealing not only his eyes - but the fact his eyes were even more golden then usual.  
  
“No.”  
  
A firm single word from Urianger, looking Moenbryda straight in the eyes. But a moment later, he continued. “I cannot alloweth thee to die once more. There is more time - we can craft a Blade of Light which needs not your sacrifice.” Even as his words rung strongly, Urianger kept his focus, knees weak as Moenbryda wrapped her arms around him. In a single motion, Urianger was on her lap, getting soft kisses down his sleeved arm, to his heavy gloves. A soft, awkward laugh came from Urianger - a perfect opposite to Moenbrydas’ confident, loud laugh.  
  
Lyse couldn’t help it - she fluttered closer, looking at the rash - huh. She was sure she’d seen it before - but she couldn’t figure it out. However, she had the next question. “What now? You’re nice and here, Moenbryda - aren’t the Doman refugees gonna get here soon? And, uh, Leviathan is gonna rise up and we’re gonna make a big boat?”  
  
Thancred crossed his arms. “That’s right. We’ll need to discuss it with Y’shtola and Papalymo - and Alphinaud, of course - but I think we should continue studying what could have sent us here - and what these rashes are.”  
  
Urianger tried to pull a little away from Moenbryda, but she held him more - and so, he simply spoke from her lap. “...Alisaie hast not contacted the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, though Bahamut still echoed though crystal. I shall remain available for my ladies' assistance.”  
  
“Wait— Bahamut?!” Moenbryda asked, trying not to be too loud. “As in the Dreadwyrm— what does lil’ Alisaie have to do with that?”  
  
Looking back at his beloved, Urianger frowned. “Deep within Eorzea, Bahamut schemes to be reconstructed. In the previous timeline, our dear twins battled alongside heroes of Eorzea, protected by their Echo, to defeat the Dreadwyrms’ attempt at resurrection. It was but the first of many conflicts with the First Brood, and one ended in heartbreak.  
  
…It was also a tale we promised to keep secret from all - else I’d have told you—”  
  
Urianger, once again, was stopped as Moenbryda kissed him - this time, on his lips. For Urianger, it felt like an eternity as her soft, supple lips lingered on his, and- wow. His own lips were ever-so-slightly parted by her tongue, before Moenbryda pulled away with a grin. “I get it, Urianger. Not a real Scion of the Seventh Dawn, right? I mean, until Minfilia signs me up in this, uh, timeline?”  
  
“Actually,” Thancred said, a little softly, “Alphinaud is currently handling membership, alongside Tataru. Minfilia is…” Just what was up with Minfilia? How could he explain it? After all, Bolormaa… he couldn’t ask her to take on that job yet. “Minfilia isn’t in a state where she can do her job.”  
  
That got another laugh from Moenbryda - but then, she warmly smiled at the group. “So… I’ll head over there tomorrow.”  
  
“Tomorrow?” Lyse asked, before beginning to cast up her Hyur glamour again - standing between Thancred and Moenbryda. The craft of Sylphic Glamours tended to begin from the glowing gem on their neck. Truly, if Lyse was familiar with our world, it would be called a form of magical girl transformation. However, as it went on, the rest of the group simply continued to talk casually.  
  
“Yeah - today, I’ve got a lot to catch up with Urianger.”  
  
It was almost idealistic, looking at how Urianger and Moenbryda shared their chair. Urianger really seemed lighter then a feather, the way Moenbryda balanced him. And yet, he looked down at her so very happily, entire face seeming to shine.  
  
Thancred stood, after slipping his shoes back on - looking to the now-glamoured-again Lyse. “We’ve still got work to do as well - Moenbryda?” Moenbryda looked up at Thancred, tilting her head. “You mind helping us carry some of these boxes out?”  
  
Standing - lifting Urianger up and standing him as well - Moenbryda grinned. “Sure, why not?”

* * *

Moenbryda, Lyse, and Thancred had all left to finish moving. Urianger remained behind - and he knew who was coming. Shyly placing his goggles and hood back on, he stood in the Solar - the broken Tupsimati still hanging.  
  
A cold chill filled the room, but Urianger did not flinch. “…Elidibus. Emissary of Zodiark, seeker of one true end.” As Urianger spoke, the white-robed Ascian entered his field of vision - a slight blackness seeping into his cloak. Of course he would come now, when it was just the two of them.  
  
Oddly enough, though, Elidibus was… smiling? Well, really, anything the Ascian did would not unnerve Urianger. Or so he thought, until Elidibus spoke. “You’ve done well, Urianger - is that what your memories tell you? So quickly have all of you fallen into old habits. Hastily, I’d say,” Elidibus said, musing as he walked closer and closer to Urianger. “It is a good change from your ego - now you’re not being as reckless as Lahabrea was. _Again_.”  
  
“Nonsense spills from your lips, Elidibus,” Urianger snarled, taking a deep breath inwards. His words, again, betrayed his true feeling - a sickness beginning to burrow into his stomach.  
  
Elidibus stopped moving, giving a small smile to Urianger. “Were the words of Gerun nonsense - or the tales of Ultimecia?” It only took a moment for Urianger to shake his head, and Elidibus continued. “I have simply come to ask about the state of Unukalhai - has he seeked you out?”  
  
Urianger shook his head again, softly. “…he has not. Would you truly want him involved when I am—”  
  
“—your amnesia does not change that you are the best place for Unukalhai to remain,” Elidibus said, speaking over Urianger. A slight disappointment in his tone, he then added, “I wonder how they will react to you once you cannot hide anymore, Nabriales?”  
  
…Urianger had no answer, as Elidibus vanished. What would they think? Really, Urianger didn’t know what to think for himself. It wasn’t that he was born as the Ascian Nabriales - but he had those memories. Had the Ascian tried to possess him? At the same time, Urianger couldn’t remember a time where he wasn’t an Ascian - his body twisted under disguises. (It was almost lucky he could disguise it, otherwise he would have never met Thancred or Louisoix.) There was no time to think about that - reaching to grab the broken staff of said mentor he cared for, even if he was never his star pupil - Urianger had to hand it to one of the others.  
  
And, of course, keep this meeting secret. And a few of the powers this… time travel seemed to do. (What would Moenbryda do if she knew? Throw herself into more and more risks, he was sure.)


	7. Chapter 7

And so, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had moved to the Waking Sands, and it almost felt like it was how it was. Even if Minfilia was in the form of an Au Ra, Alphinaud had taken over leadership, and they held a less respected position. If the Grand Companies remembered what had happened before, nobody was reaching out. That, or they were afraid nobody outside them remembered - as it had been with Nero.  
  
Nero, for his part, had made his way to check out their base, and even brought a housewarming present - a small Magitek Bit, for defense. After all, who knew what could happen, and who could remember? Not that Nero’d put it that way, even at the urging of G’raha. Why, they could figure it out. (He’d noted, however, that Wedge had already made another damned kettle. What was with him and Tataru? Something that Nero didn’t quite understand, or care to understand.)  
  
That had been two suns ago - after that, Nero had left G’raha back at camp (or so he thought) to look on the statues blocking them again. By now, Nero assumed at least one of those heroes had gone to take down the Beast Tribes - the savages below savages - and claim their perfect crystals, to shave down. Softly, he began to close his eyes, blinking slower and slower. Softly humming, Nero began to walk towards the Eight Sentinels. His steps stopped, however, at the sounds of the Singing Shards - it seeming to resonate with his hum. It felt so very soothing, ringing though his bones.  
  
Of course Nero had bones. Even if what had happened to his back should have shattered some, he had to have them. As he hummed so very softly, carrying the melody, Nero heard a familiar voice behind him.  
  
“What are _you_ — doing here?”  
  
Turning, Nero looked. Damn. It was Garlond. And, for once, he didn’t have that thick black glove on… and under it was just what Nero thought. While Garlemald was quite known, internally, for their prosthetic - Cid tended to hide his. Him, Velas’a, and Cid had all gotten into quite a bit of trouble, after all - and unlike Nero, those two had to use false limbs, instead of being able to recover like a proud Garlean should. The one hanging from Cid was a dark black, only lit up by the gentle blue glow within. If somebody hadn’t noticed his fingers on that hand only had two joints, though, Nero doubted they’d notice it was robotic in general.  
  
But, still! Why was Garlond here? Nero raised an eyebrow. “I could ask you the same, Garlond. Taking a break from your work?” he asked, stretching.  
  
Cid gave a small grumble, walking next to Nero. "For your information - Nero - I'm trying to figure out how to get past this."  
  
What? Cid hadn't figured this out yet? Nero scoffed, peering a little more at that damned Garlond. He had a bag slung loosely over one of his arms, full of... well, not pure crystals. They still held inpurities, small flecks of non-elemental power within.  
  
Lazily, Nero grabbed for the bag - Cid gripping it tighter and pulling it away. Nero snorted again. "Those'll be quite useless, Garlond. If you want to get past this? I'd say you'd need to use crystals of the same element to reflect their strikes. But it’s Allag - if they didn’t have the finest, they wouldn’t have done it."  
  
Suspicious, Cid looked from Nero to his bag - before offering him a hand. “Alright, Nero. If you’re so sure - how would you know?” Cid asked, trying to keep looking up at the taller Garlean. Usually, when Nero was this confident, something was either wrong - or about to go wrong. Or, the third option, something had already gone wrong and Nero was going to gloat about it. Cid made no mistake - Nero tol Scaeva was dangerous and planning something.  
  
Or so he thought. Nero took Cids’ hand, and Cid led him to the steps of the Eight Sentinels. Above them, the swordsmen with their technology waited, silently, for any who would dare approach their place of protection. The Crystal Tower… Nero sat along Cid, beginning to retrieve the aethersand from within him. Unlike around others, Cid didn’t flinch as Nero reached into himself - he’d done it in the academy. But Cid did decide to ask… “You still do that? I thought you were shy.”  
  
“I’m not shy, Garlond,” Nero said - shaking some of his own ooze off of the wrapped up package, “It’s Garlemald who’s shy. And the savages of Eorzea. Not I.”  
  
Continuing, Nero placed down the small package - beginning to unwrap it. Inside was the wind-aspected Aethersand - of the highest quality. “If I did that in front of them, Garlond, I’d never have been promoted and treasured by Gaius - I’d still be back doing grunt work - or worse.” As Nero sighed, he couldn’t help but bite his lip. It was true, wasn’t it? To rise up in the ranks, Nero had to hide these skills, trick others. But then why did he feel comfortable doing it around Cid nan Garlond? Nero paused for a moment, before smirking. “By the way? You’re quite welcome for repairing that stolen Magitek.”  
  
Cid looked from Nero, to the Aethersand - before crossing his arms, gripping his magitek prosthetic. Nero’d gotten something so rare. Not only that, but he was… something seemed to buzz in the back of his head, something seemed to whisper at him—  
  
—no. It was nothing. But still… “If I’m getting this right - and I think I _am_ \- you want to sand down purified crystals with Aethersand, to reflect these statues’ defenses.” Cid didn’t quite believe Nero - clearly, as he refused to open the bag. “What makes you think it’ll work?”  
  
Nero, for a moment, considered telling Cid the truth. Only for a second, mind you - even if Cid didn’t freak out over the storage, he’d still not believe him. “I met a Shaylayan scholar, and told him about this,” Nero said - smiling. “His name’s G’raha Tia - he was sent for to help, since he is a master of Allag.” That, of course, was an understatement. Nero had needed to remember to make the full G’ sound, for he felt a respect for G’raha - and was that not how Miqo’te showed their closeness?  
  
It seemed, though, that Cid wasn’t convinced - until the two of them heard footsteps, quick ones. “There you are, Nero!” a voice called out - G’raha rushed over, grinning to himself and— oh! G’raha waved to Cid. “Now there’s a face for sore eyes,” he said - before remembering… right. “I’m G’raha - Nero just mentioned me?”  
  
So he wasn’t made up. Cid offered G’raha a seat next to him - soon feeling the Miqo’te flop down. Nero, though, put a hand to G’raha - smiling. “Got that pure wind crystal? With all that chaos in Coethas, I’d not contemplated the crystal capture completely crossing your mind.”  
  
From his own small sack, G’raha got it out - before pausing. “That chaos? It’s around Camp Dragonhead - nowhere in the Ixal territory. But I don’t think those people are going to end up okay.” As Nero looked at the crystal, though, he beamed. It was perfect.  
  
“Garlond,” Nero said, passing over the crystal. “Your hand’s quite a bit safer then mine, though I’m loathe to say it. Polish this down, will you?”  
  
Cid gave a small grumble - but, on the other hand, it was an interesting theory. As he began to polish it, though, G’raha stood. Tilting his head a little, Cid couldn’t help but wonder aloud. “Leaving already?”  
  
“Of course.” G’raha stretched, from the tip of his tail to the top of his ears. “There’s more crystals and aethersand to find.”

* * *

Now, you may be asking - what chaos in Coethas happened that even Nero would hear of it?  
  
In the Coethas Central Highlands, there was a large cliff, blessed with a stone marked with the very symbol of Halone, the Fury. From those cliffs near the broken Steel Vigil, one could see straight to the very defended Ishgard. And on that cliff, two men stood.  
  
“…I— why?!” one of them - one Francel de Haillenarte - tried not to scream at the other. Screams here would echo, and could reach all the way to Camp Dragonhead.  
  
The other man - one Haurchefant Greystone - kept focused overlooking Ishgard. Having shed his armour for a less traditionally Ishgardian coat. A hood flapped in the soft but cold wind, and Haurchefant tried not to frown. “Why would I stay with Ishgard, after everything? Francel… please make sure my family is fine.”  
  
Haurchefant took a step forward - before Francel grabbed for his arm, tightly gripping it. “I can’t— you’re somebody, Haurchefant. You’re a bastard - but you’re respected! I’m the fourth-born— I’m not worth anything!” Francel said. Trying not to hurt Haurchefant, Francel gripped tighter and tighter - feeling coldness not just from the wind, but from the tears forming in his eyes.  
  
Damnit - Francel loved Haurchefant. But Haurchefant loved Francel, as well. Not just Francel, mind you. There was also… well. Haurchefant shook his head, heart breaking from those tears. “Francel— I know you won’t believe me, if I told you the real reason.”  
  
“ _Bullshit!_ ”  
  
Now, Haurchefant had known Francel for a long time. But he’d never heard him swear - and so, Haurchefant brought him in for a hug. What Francel didn’t notice for a moment was an odd dark aura coming off of Haurchefant - dark, but warm. And then, Haurchefant spoke again - his voice a whisper. “You recall those Warriors of Light - the ones who saved you from… what I’m to fall to?” Francel nodded - teeth gritted, before listening more. “They held a familiar power to the one I told you of when I was younger - to see the future. I can’t—  
  
—Ishgard is built on a lie, and I want to see if I can show it to the heretic. The only way I could is to meet with them…”  
  
“…then let me come with you,” Francel said. Haurchefant paused for a moment - what of his family? What of the work the Warriors of Light - his other loves - had done? Francel could almost tell these doubts raced though Haurchefants’ mind, and leaned into a kiss.  
  
A kiss which seemed to last an eternity, catching Haurchefants’ heavy breaths and calming him quite quickly. “If I come with you, Haurchefant— then they won’t know who had the idea,” Francel said, quickly and quietly. Running away together - to his romantic mind, it sounded nice… if they weren’t running to meet with heretics.  
  
Haurchefant, however, shook his head. “I can’t let you - somebody needs to stay behind. Not just for House Fortemps - but to watch over Camp Dragonhead. I don’t think dear Emmanellian is up for that task yet - he’s not stepped outside of Ishgard!” Haurchefant joked - a slight flicker of his aura passing though Francel.  
  
At that, though, something seemed to awaken deep within Francel - for a moment, he stared forward at Haurchefant, stumbling on his feet - eyes unblinking. A spark in his mind, and a buzz in his whole body - as if something sleeping was awoken by a cheap alarm. A hand shakily reached onto Haurchefants’ chest, gently rubbing it - before resting it over Haurchefants’ beating heart.  
  
“…You _died_.”  
  
Shit. Haurchefant hadn’t wanted this— he didn’t want his love to suffer, even if he’d given him such a gift. Without thinking, he kissed Francel again - this time, lingering for far longer. Francel couldn’t stop staring, though, with his eyes wide open. Softly pulling away, this time beaming, Haurchefant softly sighed. “I did. But… I’m back now, and perhaps I can meet with Lady Ysayle and show her what happened.  
  
I need you to stay here, Francel. But I promise to live.”  
  
Francel simply nodded. All these memories were overflowing - it took him a moment to notice Haurchefant had given him a necklace. Though it had a soft silver chain, the main attraction was an odd purple gem - almost seeming to be cut into two halves, it had a… number two inscribed on it? Without thinking, he slipped it on around his neck - it was no Dravanian gift. It was… a gift from Haurchefant, like the strange black unicorns he tended to give to his closest friends.  
  
And Haurchefant was gone, the warmth of his aura faded. For Francel, the walk back to his own base camp was slow. But when he arrived in Camp Dragonhead, there was an uproar. Haurchefant had already been seen leaving…  
  
…and had left a letter of his intentions. Why? Why would he do this? Francel didn’t know. All he knew is that he had to hide this stone, this gift from his dear love - and that he’d seen him. As the uproar built up, G’raha had passed though - having been checked for Dravanian blood - and paid it no mind. As for how Nero heard of it? News travels though Mor Dhona quickly, and especially news of a heretic panic.

* * *

The most eerie thing about polishing the stone to a sheen was the fact Nero was near-silent, watching with his strange slow blinks. Usually, Cid wouldn’t mind - it meant Nero wasn’t trying to hinder him - but it was… well, creepy. When Nero focused like this, it’s almost like he didn’t breathe, and just… watched.  
  
But the process was quick. The feeling… it was like when he was under the haze of amnesia, when he was Marques. As if he’d done it before, but also hadn’t. Cid sighed a little, looking to Nero. “It’s done. What now, then, Scaeva?”  
  
Nero reached out a hand, smirking. “If I’m right - which I am - this will reflect the wind-aspected statues,” he stated, as Cid continued to hold the fang.  
  
“And if you’re wrong?”  
  
“Then,” Nero said, finally receiving the fang, “I’ll be out of your hair.” And wouldn’t Cid like that, hm? Nero looked to the fang in his hands. Usually, it would be Cid jumping at the chance to try his inventions. After all - he made the things, he should test them. Honestly, if it was anything else, Nero would let Cid try it out.  
  
But, deep inside him, Nero had a yearning to return to that Tower. Why? Why did he keep feeling like this? Nero had no idea, but he began to walk - almost like a man possessed. Cid followed quickly behind, until they stood by them.  
  
Even Cid could feel the power vibrating though him - and not just because the glow of his magitek prosthetic seemed to reflect it. Nero held the fang high, as he walked forward—  
  
—and nothing happened. No beams fired at him. Nothing was reflected. Nero stepped further in - to the other elemental statues, and they seemed to ignore him. Turning back to Cid, Nero slowly walked back - before handing him it. “Hah! Just our luck - the sleeping guards have dozed off more!”  
  
Cid was not convinced. He looked from Nero, to these powerful statues - before taking a step forward.  
  
Within a moment, a blast of energy was aimed at Cid nan Garlond - only the wind-based attack seemed to be reflected. And within the next moment, Cid found himself on the ground, out of reach of the attack—  
  
—and Nero was on top of him, scowling, pinning Cid down. Cid felt himself sharply inhale - if he was a lesser man, he’d let out a string of rather loud swears. “You— were telling the truth,” Cid whispered, feeling more and more breathless with every second. Why would Nero be telling the truth? Even back in the academy, Nero was always being a little tricky - the sort of tricky which let somebody climb up the social rank of Garlemald so very quickly.  
  
Frowning, Nero couldn’t help but shrug the smallest bit - not getting off of Cid. “It might be the last time. Don’t get used to it, Garlond,” Nero said - not noticing the slight pink building on his cheeks. Since when was a breathless Garlond so… appealing? His messy hair seemed even messier, flecks of the crystal ground having gotten bashed into it - hair slightly fluffed. And that damned beard - it’s not like Nero was jealous that Cid could grow it, but… okay, he was jealous.  
  
As Cid began to push on his chest, though, Nero sat up - looking. At least the crystal didn’t shatter, and that one statue seemed to be less powered - if not destroyed. Cid let out a relieved sigh. “…You saved me,” Cid said - doubt in his voice.  
  
Nero couldn’t help but chuckle internally. “And now I don’t owe you.” It was almost a pity that Cid didn’t seem to remember their last trip - else, that’d echo a lot more true to Cid. Instead, Cid just remained confused - before beginning to sit up, trying to dust off the back of his head. “That’ll leave a mark,” Cid mused, “but… you actually knew what you were doing.”  
  
Nero huffed. “And what’s that meant to mean, Garlond? I’ve always known what I was doing.”  
  
“What about the Magitek Vanguard Mark XII?” Cid couldn’t help but ask, even though he knew how Nero would answer.  
  
“Clearly, that was not my fault. Who knew that giant spiders couldn’t work well with that amount of guns?” Nero retorted - feeling an odd sensation on the back of his neck. Almost… the hairs on the back of it prickling up? Weird.  
  
As Cid sat up, though, he began to examine - palm over - the light green stone. “Doesn’t it look like a Zodiac Stone - one of the legendary Auracite?” Cid said out loud, tracing the harsh shape. If it wasn’t quite so light-coloured, it’d look like a mossy arrow head. “Though it’s clearly not.”  
  
Even as Cid continued to examine it - complement it in his way - for once, Nero wasn’t paying attention. Cid had nearly died, damnit. Cid had… nearly died. His fingers tightening, Nero let out a soft whine. He couldn’t… think though these feelings, these sudden feelings of anger and sadness. How dare Cid risk himself like that?! Why didn’t Cid trust him with this— of course he didn’t. Who’d trust Nero tol Scaeva? He only acted for himself, not caring for others - or so it seemed. Even G’raha likely didn’t trust him, Nero thought. Trust was simply… something he didn’t have.  
  
“—Nero, are you paying attention?” Cid asked, breaking Neros’ self-deprecating thoughts, if only for a moment. “Since the wind-aspected one is disabled, I’ll be going to study it.”  
  
Nero gave a small nod, before suddenly realising what Cid was saying. “After the others tried to kill you? Cid, you’re a madman,” Nero said.  
  
Cid looked to Nero, and rolled his eyes - reaching to grab the other Garlean. “You really weren’t paying attention. That won’t help us - you’re part of the Ironworks, aren’t you? That makes me your superior.”  
  
Shit, yeah, it sort of did. And Nero couldn’t say he wasn’t - before, he’d used it to join him. “And when haven’t you been seen like that, Garlond?” he asked, noticing he was getting closer and closer to Cid, even when he was grabbed. Taking a deep inhale, Nero could feel whatever his heart was - it skipped a beat. Why? Why was he feeling this way? Damnit, it was just Cid nan Garlond. It was just… “Everybody else sees you as the great Cid nan Garlond, savior to wherever you go. And yet, you’re a bloody moron who’d walk into death because you ‘ _didn’t believe_ ’ somebody!” Nero didn’t even realise how loud his voice was getting, that he was shouting, as his head hovered so very close to Cids’. A harsh hot breath came from his lips - Cid stared, his eyes wider then usual. “…You could have died,” Nero then whispered, hissing - without any spit, only a soft tremble from his body. “That’d be… a shame, Garlond. You’ve got quite a bit left to do. Things only you can do.”  
  
Cid couldn’t help but stare - not just because of the words, not only because of how close Nero was - but because Nero was crying, though it was only slight. Now, these tears weren’t water-based - they seemed to be the same ooze that Nero stored things in - but Cid had never seen Nero cry. Again, Cid felt a strange spark - which faded, once more. “Nero, I—” Cid began, using his spare hand to rub at the ooze. It felt warm and welcoming, almost like a cool stream. “You’re full of surprises.” Cid didn’t know how to handle Nero, to be honest. Something was telling him, deep inside his head, that Nero was telling the truth. Honestly, though, Nero was always bad at hiding when he was this… no, he wasn’t angry. What Nero did next, though, would surprise Cid far more.  
  
“…I don’t want to lose you.”  
  
Cid gave a small frown, just now realising how close Nero had gotten - basically climbing into his lap, having moved to rest his head on Cids’ shoulder. “What’s gotten into you, Nero? I didn’t die.”  
  
Nero softly frowned. He had to softly mumble, for he suddenly felt tired. “You didn’t,” Nero said, “but… it’s almost like you have. There’s quite a bit going on you don’t seem to notice, Garlond.” Nero needed to tell Cid - it was burning him up inside. “Something’s made time corrupt, and I’ve seen this before.”  
  
…That seemed to be what made that spark return, but this time, Cid felt himself going faint… as a rush of memories came to him. Head dropping, Cid began to laugh. The laughter echoed, wrapping his arms around Nero. It was just what Nero had said - he was telling the truth. But then, how did he remember now? Cid hadn’t noticed that the tears he’d wiped away from Nero had soaked into his skin and metal - and, really, that was the last thing on his mind.  
  
Not only had Nero told the truth, he’d not taken advantage of him - nor had he used it to lord over him too much. Why, Cid would have expected Nero to go seek—  
  
—damn it. Omega would be buried again. And Alexander - well, honestly, Cid wasn’t sure if it would still be around. Since they’d… gone back in time? It seemed? Would the Primal remain gone, or…? His smile didn’t fade, as he pushed Nero back a little - so he could look into his eyes. “We’ll… get the other fangs and disable the Sycrus Tower as soon as possible. Otherwise we’ll need to send a group into the World of Darkness again.”  
  
Right to work. Nero didn’t expect anything else - but still. “So you’re no longer amnesiac? Good to know, Garlond,” Nero said - not that he was worried or anything, planted right in his lap.  
  
Cid had moved to rest his head on Neros’ chest. The two of them remained seated, as the sun began to set - the oranges and red masking the soft blush building on Cids’ face - the sort he’d not want to talk about. “Nero… don’t try and use the power of the Void. Believe it or not, I need you to help.”  
  
…Cid needed him? Nero didn’t understand, as he blushed a little himself. “Of course I won’t. Besides - I tried it already, and I’d rather not be at the brink of death, Garlond.” Nero held Cid tighter, softly beginning to hum again - taking a little break was worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

It was not just Cid, Nero, and G’raha who were seeking the pure crystals to get in. Word had spread of an exploration into Allagan ruins, to make sure the devices within were not to be used for evil. It had even spread to the Warriors of Light. The heavily armoured Scholar, Theodora, stood at base camp - looking to the others. The threat of King Moggle Mog had been stopped very easily - far too easily for their tastes. The three other crystals had been gotten though combat - usually, by accident, when countering Titan, Ifrit, and the newly summoned Leviathan. Sasaxia had tried to offer a pure crystal from her Lord Ramuh - but there was no need for levin, in this environment.  
  
“And why,” Sasaxia asked as she looked to Rhel, “are needing Tall One? Shouldn’t be looking for Loving One?”  
  
Rhel looked down to Sasaxia - her robes loose, Rhel looked far more comfortable here then the sylph-raised Lalafell. “There’s something wrong here - around here, the Void can be opened far easier then usual. And, so, they need somebody who knows things about it.” Rhel paused for a moment, looking over to the engineers. To how Cid and Nero were discussing the fangs so very casually - Nero almost glancing over, before letting out a laugh to the other Garlean. “Somebody who isn’t faking their knowledge.”  
  
What Rhel wouldn’t say is that she didn’t know why Haurchefant had done what he’d done - and, really, this was a good distraction. When she was around him, there was something wrong in general - but honestly? Heretics and Ishgard weren’t her issue yet. One thing at a time.  
  
Beaming a little, Sasaxia nodded. “Will climb up tower, get pretties, and then will look for Loving One. And This One will return to home for little - um,” Sasaxia said, trailing off - trying to think of how she could explain herself. It was always a delicate balance between being adorable and being understood. “Am worried for Touched Ones.”  
  
Of course Sasaxia was worried - even after taking a pure levin crystal, the Sylph seemed rather… spooked by everything outside. And inside, as well - with more and more Garleans and Spoken in general ripping though their home. Rhel kneeled down, and gave Sasaxia a little hair ruffle - before turning at the sound of approaching footsteps. Luckily, it was Cid.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt you two - but we’re ready to neutralize the defenses, old friends,” Cid said. Quickly, the group began to move - Rhel clicking on her Linkpearl to call the others who’d want to explore here. (Oddly enough, Urianger had already refused, even before hearing what it was. Even with his girlfriend around, he… seemed nervous.)  
  
Of course, G’raha walked beside Nero - trying not to stare at him too much. Nero remained at the back of the group, looking from Cid to the protruding blue tower. The symbol of hope, able to last forever… it was rare for Nero to be so unreadable. Slightly flapping his hands, Nero looked back to G’raha… before shaking his head. He’d worn his nice red armour - just in case they got to the Void and he had to… protect the twins again.  
  
“Clearly,” Nero said, looking to the Miqo’te, “these heroes should be pre-warned of what’s to come.” From the tone of his voice, however, it was clear that Nero was distracted. The soft hum he had picked up from the Singing Shards slipped from his mouth again. The melody, however, seemed a little more haunting - for a moment, G’raha swore he’d heard it elsewhere, a long time ago. Nero was more and more of a mystery every single day - deciding to stay awake a little longer gave him a little time to try and understand the Garlean.  
  
That was a mystery that G’raha tried not to think about too much, though - as he noticed Nero continuing to walk, as the fangs were handed out. Quickly nabbing one from Nero, he rushed behind him— the statues not attacking Nero, just like before. Or G’raha - though, G’raha could reason it was because of his eyes… his Allagan blood.  
  
But still—!! G’raha spoke up. “Nero, what’s going on,” he said. Behind him, Cid walked up - the entrance to the Labyrinth of the Ancients before them.  
  
“…You heroes,” Nero said, ignoring G’raha, and looking back to the group of Warriors of Light. The others had come - all of them. “In this maze, you should do your best to stick together. There’s quite a few nasty monsters - after all, it’s Allagan. Do your best, and I won’t have to mock your deaths.”  
  
It was a familiar voice which questioned him first. Velas’a - his old assistant. Of course Velas’a had survived - he had, last timeline. Him and his brother, standing side-by-side… it was quite the sight. If Nero didn’t know they weren’t, he’d call them twins. “You’d… mock our deaths?” he snarled.  
  
Rhel added, with a small hm, “That’s one way to get haunted.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Nero looked straight at Rhel. His third rival. “If you dare haunt me, I’ll trap you in a crystal and shatter it,” he said - honestly, not sure if that was possible.  
  
It was, however, K’pandolu who spoke next - speaking over Velas’a. “I don’t think that’s possible,” she said, squeezing the hand of Bolormaa. “Besides - I don’t think we’re going to die.”  
  
Forever the optimist, forever wanting to help. It was something Nero couldn’t understand. “Unfortunately, I can’t come witness your fall,” he said, “for somebody needs to stay up here and remain nice and safe.”  
  
Cid gave Nero a little glare - even as his expression softed a little, seeing that face of his. “What he means is that there’s analysis to be done - we can’t fight like you, heroes. Don’t worry - we’ll be waiting here, once you’ve fully explored it.” Cid, really, knew they’d do it. Just like last time - even if it was a slightly different group, these were the Warriors of Light from this world.  
  
With that encouragement, the eight entered, and so the engineers - and G’raha - were left behind. Slight arguing could be heard from the group of ladies (and their single guy) - mostly friendly, mind you. What they thought they’d find, what they’d need to avoid, who’d be the main tank.  
  
It took less then a minute for Nero to begin walking towards the Labyrinth of the Ancients, humming so very softly. G’raha could almost tell what it was - but what he was doing wasn’t what they should be doing, damnit! “Nero— what’re you doing?” he asked, managing to grab one of his hands. From under Neros’ gloves, they were glowing brighter then he’d ever seen.  
  
Nero, however, looked down at G’raha - gaze still distracted. “I can hear something, ‘raha,” Nero stated, looking right at the tower. “It won’t leave my head - so why not go to where I can hear it strongest?”  
  
G’raha could barely believe it - Cid stepped to the other side of Nero. Sure, Nero was weird. But this was creepy. Nero spoke again, sounding more and more distracted. “I— I think I know a shortcut.”  
  
“And you didn’t tell the Warriors of Light?” Cid asked, refusing to let go of Neros’ other arm. Nero shook his head a little, beginning to walk forward - the other two unable to stop his casual strolling.  
  
Just how strong was he?  
  
Nero, however, wasn’t entering the maze - no, he was standing by the entrance, hands shaking - not just because of Cid and G’raha holding them. The sound was screaming at him— no, not here. A little more to the east - Cid and G’raha could only watch and try and pull him back as Nero stood at what seemed to be a wall. His eyes almost hollow, Nero then put a hand to the wall - shrugging G’rahas’ grip easily to his elbow.  
  
The wall opened, to what seemed to be a back entrance to the Labyrinth. Silently, Nero slipped in with his others - the entrance sealing behind them.  
  
As soon as they were in, Nero slumped to the wall - trying not to fall to the ground, arms trembling, whispering a rather harsh swear word. The tunnels were dark, brown, with only the soft blue lights from Nero himself illuminating the way.  
  
After a moment, Cid spoke up. “…Nero, I don’t know what you did, but— you found a short-cut. We should call the Warriors of Light and—”  
  
“—shut up, Garlond,” Nero mumbled - heart clearly not in it. “We don’t even know if we can get out of here.” Of course, Nero knew they could probably blow up the walls, somehow. His voice was weak, though, and Nero could hear the sound louder and louder.  
  
G’raha laughed a little - nodding to himself. “If these are some form of supply tunnels, then they’ll open up somewhere!” he said, ears twitching. Reaching out for Nero again, G’raha then turned to Cid - who was beginning to take off his glove, to let his own magitek arm light the tunnel more. “Besides - we can meet them at the other side.”  
  
Cid sighed. Honestly, if he was stuck with people… no, he’d think Nero would be one of the worst to be stuck with. Usually, that is. But he could name worse people - not right now, but he could. (Garlean engineers, most likely - those who were fully with the Empire.) Especially since G’raha was with them as well. Nero began to walk forward, legs bouncing the slightest bit.  
  
But it was strange. Nero wasn’t talking, as he began to walk forward - his stance strict, his legs moving so very slowly. While Nero walked forward, mimicing the sound he could hear in his head, G’raha and Cid beginning to converse about their future plans.  
  
“…Bloody hell, G’raha - you’re going to help us with Omega? Last time it activated— nobody remembers what happened,” Cid said, trying not to let his shock make him stumble.  
  
G’raha nodded, even if it was barely visible. As he walked, G’raha couldn’t help but notice… the ground was becoming more and more solid, almost feeling more tile-like as they moved on. “It’s an ancient Allagan machine - as the successor to their legacy, maybe I can help out. Plus, well,” G’raha gestured towards Nero, “I think there’s a bit of time before I can rest. More time to… know you two.”  
  
In near silence, the two continued to move, the only sounds the clank of their boots on the polished surface, and the humming from Nero. That’s when G’raha realised what the sound was - buried deep in the memories the blood had given him, the song finally spoke to him.  
  
“That’s… the Allagan anthem,” G’raha said - and Nero turned back to him.  
  
It made sense - wait, no, it didn’t. If he was humming the anthem, why would it echo though crystal? Why would it be played here? Crossing his arms, Nero scoffed. “Now, G’raha, I’m no nationalist—”  
  
“—You were,” Cid interrupted. “You’d do anything for Garlemald, Nero. Don’t try and lie about it.”  
  
“…Really, Cid,” Nero said - using Cids’ name almost affectionately, “you didn’t see I did it all for myself? And I thought you were smart.” Pausing, Nero continued to walk - this time, far more confidently. “I doubt anybody here’d be singing - anthem or not. If you’ve forgotten, there’s a rebel leader in the labyrinth and frozen men who’d most likely not be singing the praises of Allag.”  
  
Cid crossed his own arms, walking next to Nero - resisting the urge to hold his arm again. Listen, the path was a little dark, and Nero needed to stay grounded. “For all we know, Amon and Xande brainwashed the men here. Tempered them - they knew how to imprison Primal. Why not experiment on ‘em?”  
  
Experimenting on Primal? Nero shook his head. “I’d like to think Allag didn’t temper men - that’s one thing even I’d never consider.”  
  
Funny that Nero had standards - even as he moved closer to the end of the corridor. The faint outline of a door came into view - with a strange panel next to it. “Any clue, ‘raha?” Nero asked - though still clearly distracted.  
  
G’raha darted up to the panel - huh. It wasn’t an eye scanner, that was common in Allag. It almost looked like… a hand scanner? He could fit his whole palm on it - as could Nero, as Nero casually leaned on it. As his glowing hand shuddered on the panel, though, the door began to slide open. What was past it?  
  
Why, Syrcus Tower itself. The tunnel they'd opened was a shortcut, it seemed. The three stared - before G'raha rushed ahead, gazing around. Sure, this was the same tower which was slowly awakening, but at the same time... another part of it? It wasn't the main entrance. "Nero - you still won't tell us what you're doing, will you?" G'raha teased. Nero huffed - not moving until Cid had made his way in. But as Nero removed his hand from the panel, the door suddenly slammed down. Seemed that Nero couldn't leave that way. Waiting for a moment... seemed Nero wasn't going to open it again.  
  
The hum began up from Nero, though - G'raha and Cid nodded at each other. "We'll follow him from outside, then?" Cid said, beginning to follow the sound. It felt… a lot better, following in the light then the darkness. The path they followed, though, had quite a few stairs…

* * *

Damnit. As soon as Nero’d removed his hand from that panel, it’d gone dull - not working any more. But the song, the melody, was screaming in his head - he had to find the source, and stop it! It was almost like… he wasn’t even listening to it with his ears. Every step he made was filled with more of that song. Words were being added - sure, this was an ancient Allagan song, but… at the same time, the lyrics didn’t match an anthem.  
  
‘ _Roaming sheep in search of the place you've never known;_  
_Listen to the wind until you can hear the sign;_  
_Roaming sheep in front of the gate that closed so tight;_  
_Take a rest on the earth, until you can find the key…_ ‘  
  
Now, Nero had never been interested in the melodies of Allag. Sure, if he’d found a music box or weaponised music, now that’d be interesting. But music had never interested him in general. If he had to pass his time with other people, he’d rather be with other engineers, doing something. Still, this song was infecting him, almost masking the snarls he was making under his breath.  
  
‘ _Roaming sheep in search of the people full of love;_  
_Bathe yourself in water until your mind soothes again;_  
_Roaming sheep in front of the deep and dreamless sleep;_  
_Here you're by the fire, able to warm your heart..._ ‘  
  
It got louder. Closer. And Nero could see another panel - one which seemed to crackle and glow. Perhaps this one had more power? After removing his hand from the last one, Nero had felt a little… drained. Slamming his hand down to it, he could almost see… some form of arena? A red carpet lay in front of him, and a rather foppishly dressed bard sat there, singing - tuning his harp. The flicker of candles illuminated him, and if Nero didn’t know better? He’d think he’d stepped into the stage of a play.  
  
_‘Each and every moment, oh as time goes by;_  
_All in this world has to change...’_  
  
Nero stepped closer, hands trembling. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d removed his hand from the panel, until the door slammed closed behind him. Trying not to jump, Nero tried to speak up - the bard seemingly not noticing, and continuing to sing - finishing the song.  
  
‘ _Roaming sheep in search of the place you've never known;_  
_Better take a breath until you can hear the sign;_  
_Roaming sheep in search of the place you've never seen;_  
_Better watch your step until you can find the key;_  
_Roaming sheep in search of the place you may never reach;_  
_Better love yourself; tomorrow's another day._ ’  
  
As he finally finished - laying down his harp and standing - Nero stormed closer and closer, the carpet slightly bunching up at his footsteps. Now, Nero was never good at holding back his anger. “And what is that meant to mean?” he asked - about to grab at the bard. But his arms seemed just… unable to grab at him.  
  
“How _uncultured_ ,” the bard said, turning to face Nero - his face covered by a skull-like mask. “It is a composition from the conquered city-state of Ur. Though it was a small city-state, conquering it allowed Lord Xande to claim much territory. It soon became a melody of victory. I’d expect you, of all beings, to recall that.”  
  
Something about this bard made Nero… uneasy. From afar, G’raha and Cid had seen them - but they couldn’t get closer. No, not from this path. Damnit… they had to only watch, as Nero stood trembling. Not of Neros’ own accord, mind you. His eyes focused, Nero shook his head. “I don’t know who in the hells you are, but I’d never poison myself with such a melody.”  
  
“…So soon you forget, Alpupus,” the bard said, placing a hand to Nero - one he couldn’t seem to knock away. “No matter. I, Amon, shall indulge you - for I did not expect for you to return.”  
  
Alpupus? Nero… well, honestly, it sounded familiar, in the back of his head. If bile could build at the back of his throat, Nero was sure it would be - this was Amon. Amon was always one to admire, in Garlemald - the one who conquered death, and brought Allag to the forefront of technology. This still felt creepy. “…Return,” Nero mumbled, trying not to meet Amons’ gaze, from under that damn hat.  
  
Almost sensing the discomfort, Amon got even closer. “Return. Don’t tell me…” Amon said, gripping Nero by his other arm, “you did not bring those reports?” At Nero shaking his head, trying to snarl, Amon laughed. “Then you’ve gained some form of free will. How very… interesting.”  
  
Nero was damned confused - moreso at why he couldn’t free himself from this gaze, why he could barely move. “It’s a pity your self-will can’t deactivate your protocols, dearest Alpupus. Still imperfect as always.  
  
Of course… you were such a flawed prototype.”  
  
—What in the seven hells was going on? Finally, Nero felt his words building - pulling away from Amon a little. It also was a little un-nerving that he was shorter then Amon - usually, Nero would leer and lean over people. Now, he was being leaned over, the smallest bit! “You’re— Amon, if I may? You’re making no sense. My name is Nero tol Scaeva - and I’m a proud Garlean. I’m no… prototype, or whatever nonsense you’re spewing out.”  
  
Even with all his confidence, however, Nero couldn’t seem to speak louder then normal - couldn’t protest, as Amon walked to the back of Nero - touching his armoured back. Shuddering, Nero glared backwards. “Nero, was it? Hah - whatever made you take such a name?  
  
You are Alpupus, prototype automation made by my hand. A rather flawed one, at that.”  
  
As Amon spoke, his expression seemed to shift under the mask - Nero could almost feel it. He was being sneered at. “And how,” Nero asked, “do I know you’re not a madman?”  
  
It took less then a moment for Nero to regret it, as Amon swiftly picked up his harp - playing a note. It echoed deep into Neros’ head - and moreso, seemed to make his skin crawl more. Trembling, Nero tried to remain standing - but he was on the ground. Amon then conjured up… a blade? No, he’d simply had it in his long cloak. To the horror of the watching Cid and G’raha, Amon aimed the blade at Neros back—  
  
—and sliced him open. Once again, the ooze seemed to spill out - corroding and dissolving the armour around it. Laughing, Amon put the blade away, almost pleased at the snarls Nero made. Now, it didn’t hurt Nero - the stabbing. But this was embarrassing, even without knowing he was being watched.  
  
After a moment, Amon picked up some of the ooze - to dangle in front of Nero. “Are you foolish enough to think this is blood? No, it’s a replica of a liquid found within quite the ally. And your skin - any living thing would have died from having it open like that. The years have left you quite… weak, Alpupus.”  
  
“… _Nero_ ,” Nero snarled, though gritted teeth - trying not to look at… his blood. It was blood. Not a replica liquid. “I am Nero tol Scaeva. I don’t care what you say—”  
  
Nero tried to finish his sentence, before Amon played the note again, making him snarl once more. Why was he doing this?! Amon placed his fingers on Nero - tracing down his back, down the cut he’d left - lingering at the end of it. “To think, I’d thought when you’d choose a name… it wouldn’t be one as foolish as Nero. Do you even know what that means?”  
  
Looking up, Nero tried to not show his discomfort. His pain. If he did? It’d be over. “It’s a name of strength- something you sorely lack, Lord Amon.“  
  
Amon began to laugh - almost dropping that damned harp. But no, he held onto it - and leaned down, to look Nero right in the face. “…You’re serious? You can’t be. Nero is a name meaning hamfisted - and Scaeva means clumsy. A pathetic delivery, and a pathetic look you’ve made for yourself.”  
  
Before Amon could continue, though, an arrow swiftly flew past - barely missing Nero, and piercing Amon in what seemed to be the arm. Both of the men looked to where it came from - nothing. “…It seems the defenses have gone a little soft, as well,” Amon said - standing… and shaking the arrow out of him, so very easily. For a moment, Amons’ sleeve was pulled up enough for Nero to see… he was made of bones. Well, most people were, but they had flesh on top. By now, Nero had felt the back of his back heal up again - but this time, it felt different. “Now, Alpupus.” Amon had turned away from the disappointment of an automation. “It’s showtime. For how would you adapt if a situation like this, I wonder?”  
  
…This time, the arrow fired hit Amon right in the face - cracking the mask a little. He didn’t seem to mind, though - simply removing the arrow, and throwing it at Nero - right into the slightly open crack. As Nero remained in pain - from music and the situation both - Amon couldn’t help but begin to laugh again.  
  
Nero couldn’t show his feelings. He couldn’t, however, stop himself from seeming to kneel in front of Amon, something deep in his brain… damnit. He really was an automation, wasn’t he? And Amon had picked up his harp again…  
  
Before he could play more, however, flame seemed to strike from just near them. Looking to the side for a moment - a Carbuncle? It belonged to the Velas Siblings, it had those damn shared markings— wait. The Velas Siblings— everybody had gotten here so fast? Nero was about to smirk and say something about it - but, instead, he felt a blast of Blizzard. Blizzard 4, he’d have to wager.  
  
“My, my,” Amon said, as Neros’ vision seemed to fade, “such unruly guests. ‘Twould seem a little diversion is in order. Wouldn’t you agree, Alpupus?”

* * *

Amon was dead - soon, the group would be meeting with Xande. How, exactly, had they entered so quickly? Why, Doga and Unei had come to the doors of Sycrus Tower. Not only that, but when they’d heard from Biggs and Wedge that Cid had vanished… well, this was the only place they had to look. Somehow, climbing it would find Cid.  
  
“…I still do not get it,” Blieraux said, looking from the corpse of Amon to the out-cold Nero. “Blizzard, instead of Fire?”  
  
Rhel shrugged. “I didn’t want him dead yet. He’s much more fun when he’s alive.”  
  
Blieraux - still garbed in but a mask and a loincloth - gave a soft nod. Even as a Dragoon, he knew the curiosity. “…The way he sat with Amon…”  
  
“If he’s not a traitor,” Rhel said, “then I don’t know what’s going on.”  
  
“You didn’t hear any of that?” A voice - familiar to those who went to gather the aethersand - cut though the room. G’raha had finally found a way to them - even if Cid was still trailing behind. “Listen, after you guys finish cleaning this place up, we’ll all need to talk.” G’raha then turned to the back of the group - to Doga and Unei. “…And we’ll need to make sure you two are safe.”  
  
Xande was to be battled so very soon - and then, well. They’d need to prepare for the Voidgate - these Warriors of Light had no idea, did they? “Wait a second - I’ll catch you all up on what’s waiting for you at the top. It’s the least I can do.”

* * *

Nero tol Scaeva never dreamed. In fact, he never slept. Really, it was obvious that he was an automation - but it had never seemed a possibility. Honestly, deep inside, Nero’d wished he could dream. When he’d heard others, he’d thought it was quite the interesting thing. But as he struggled to open his eyes - hearing distant sounds - it’s what Nero tried to think about. Better then the pain in his back. Actual pain - something he’d never felt before.  
  
He had to focus on one of the voices, there was panic going on around him. The voices of the heroes, the Warrior of Light - Sasaxia screeching as that sylph tended to, the calming voice of K’pandolu trying to calm the group, Doga and Unei trying to explain—  
  
Wait. Doga and Unei were there. Nero had to see them. Whining a little, Nero managed to snap his eyes open - pain filling his vision with red. Somebody had… moved him against a wall? It didn’t feel like the ooze was sipping out of him, but his back still felt pierced open, from that strange blade. They were still in Amons’ arena, Nero could see - and by his side, Cid was… tightening bandages? These were bandages. Softly, Nero tried to talk - softly turning to a whine.  
  
At the whine, Cid put a hand to Neros’ face - before Nero softly headbutt at him, weakly. “Don’t need… your…”  
  
Cid put his hand back to Nero, this time to his chest - comfortingly. “I’m not being sympathetic, Nero. G’rahas’ still instructing everybody.”  
  
“…and when Xande jumps back to his throne, he summons meteors,” G’raha said, “but that’s no problem!”  
  
“Let me guess, we have to use our Limit Break,” Velas’to said, looking over towards K’pandolu. “Else they fall, and we die.”  
  
K’pandolu looked to him, and shook her head. “I think we can just take down whatever’s summoning them on our own - right?” Forever the optimist (one of them) of the group. “But if we can’t, I’ll trust you to use it.”  
  
“Trust me?” Velas’to asked, tilting his head. Velas’a gave a small nod - who wouldn’t trust his brother? Well, really, he acted untrustworthy a lot, in his goal to bring Beast Tribes together as one tribe. Really, if he ever snapped and turned evil, he wouldn’t need to change how he acted. As Velas’a began to stroke his brothers’ tail, Velas’to nodded. “I’ll do it. What next, G’raha?”  
  
Nero looked to the group, and gave a soft smile. “Looks like that band of heroes are close,” Nero whispered - his throat felt tight, for once in his life. Was it tight? He was an automation, his breathing didn’t matter. But… his gaze focused on Doga and Unei, standing by G’raha, before his eyes closed again - no, he had to stay awake. Awake? Yes, awake.  
  
G’rahas’ ears twitched, and he looked over to Nero. “Waking up, Nero?” Nero groaned a little, as G’raha laughed - bounding over, almost on all fours, to grin at him with a cat-like grin. “And here I thought this was where I’d doze away. Don’t worry - Amon’s all gone.”  
  
“…Didn’t get my revenge…” Nero mumbled, trying to look G’raha in the eyes. The bright red was almost calming. Did Amon have eyes like that? He was no royal, but he was the apex Allagan technomancer.  
  
Looking from Cid to Nero, G’raha nodded. “On the plus side, we kept the blade. We’ll figure out why you’re not healing, and then you’ll be better.” G’raha had already said he wasn’t going to sleep before finding out what Omega was doing, but… Nero placed his hand over Cids’, and then his gaze turned back to Doga and Unei.  
  
“…After Xande…”  
  
Nero couldn’t finish his sentence, his lips trembling, but Cid did. “We can’t relax, just because we’re toppling an emperor. It’s not as easy as when you took down Gaius and Ultima Weapon. No - this time, we’ve got the Void to deal with. It’s why I asked for you by name, Rhel.”  
  
Now, normally, Cid wouldn’t be saying this things for Nero. Nor would he let the other keep holding onto him. But if it was anybody else, they’d be dead or dying - and, besides. Even if they knew the end goal of this Tower - G’raha taking control of it, and after solving Omega, going to sleep in it - this was a new Allagan automation that could be… no, not tamed. Tamed wasn’t the right term. Nero was a person, but also an automation.  
  
Still, Cid had to figure out how to repair Nero - and, you know. Try and neutralize any threat he might pose, from whatever Allag did to create him. (That is, if Amon wasn’t lying. Always a possibility.) As soon as he finished talking, however, Rhel gave a shrug.  
  
“And you didn’t tell me - why? I wouldn’t have brought Sasa along, for one,” Rhel said. Listen, giving the sylph any ideas was a bad idea. “But for two, we’ll be able to stop whatever comes though.”  
  
“That’s the issue,” G’raha said. “It’s not going to come out of the Voidgate which will open - it’ll be dragging Doga and Unei in,” he added - making sure the two clones were paying attention. Oh, they were - and Doga took a step forward.  
  
Trying to remain confident, Doga nodded. “Our covenant needs to be broken, and then you’ll end the Towers’ drain of energy from the sun and moon, won’t you?” Doga said - G’raha nodding a little, frowning. Nero, however, then tried to shift - letting out a rather loud swear once more. Nero couldn’t let it happen again - even if he would just follow them in, like before. Even as he struggled, Nero couldn’t seem to stand. Trying to even snarl took his breath away…  
  
…before he felt a familiar hand to his. Unei had come to his other side, sitting across from Cid. Really, it almost looked like a cuddle pile. “…Nero. I didn’t think we had another chance,” Unei whispered.  
  
“…I wish not to ruin this moment,” a voice said from the group. Blieraux stood next to Rhel. “But… _Xande_.”  
  
“R-Right,” Doga nodded. “When Xande falls, the Voidgate will open - and last time—”  
  
Blieraux frowned again, his mask shaking. “Last time,” he simply stated, taking a daring step forward - the ground below the Au Ra seeming to grow hotter.  
  
Cid sighed a little. “I don’t have time to explain it - once we’re down, I’ll try. But the basics are that we’ve done this before - and last time, Doga and Unei got trapped in the void for a few moons.”  
  
Hoarsely, Nero chuckled. “With me, at that - truly, that must have been the _worst_ of it.” Maybe it was because he was this injured, or maybe it was because so many of his rivals were in the same room, but Nero could fell his self-loathing bubbling up to the surface. “Anyway, you heroes saved me, and they died.”  
  
“…We didn’t die,” Unei mumbled, looking over to Doga. “But we remained in the Void. It was only recently that a Voidgate opened, and we found ourselves within the Crystal Tower.”  
  
Rhel stepped closer to them, getting out - well, a small device, putting it up to Doga. Softly, she rubbed it down him a little - Doga flinching. As it was removed from his clothes, Rhel began to read the readout - Sasaxia climbing up Blieraux to read it. (That is, if she could read.) Frowning, Rhel began to bounce in place. “…You don’t have any taint,” Rhel commented. “See, Sasa? That number is normal - for this group, that is.”  
  
Doga shook his head. “Us clones can cleanse taint,” he explained, looking to Nero. They’d done it before. Would they need to do it again?  
  
His question, unspoken, seemed to be answered by Rhels confident smirk. “We can handle this - Xande and this Voidgate. We’ll make sure nobody has to be lost in it.  
  
But you need to explain what happened last time, as soon as we’re done.”  
  
And so, the nine Warriors of Light walked on - Doga and Unei following. G’raha, Cid, and Nero remained behind - and Nero let out another weak laugh. “Do you really think they can change what happened, Garlond? Without— without me, those children will die.”  
  
Cid put his other arm around Nero - the one tipped with Magitek - and it almost seemed to calm the tense, injured Garlean. Nero moved to hold onto the Magitek arm, whining softly. (Instead of loudly, as he usually did.) Softly, without noticing, Nero… kissed it?  
  
G’raha raised an eyebrow. “Cid, did he just…?”  
  
“Ssh,” Cid mumbled back - he didn’t know why, but Nero had just kissed him. Well, though his false arm, but it was engineered with quite the technology. Just like how Magitek Reaper could identify where they’d been struck, his arm could send sensations to his mind. It didn’t take long, though, for Nero to slip off again - sleeping for once in his life. Smiling, Cid seemed to relax with him. Sure, he had to worry about the group up ahead. But at the same time…  
  
…this was oddly relaxing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song amon sung is from ff3! it's called roaming sheep.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qtJqI_IjPA


	9. Chapter 9

“Cid, there’s—”  
  
Barely a bell had passed - Cid had remained with Nero, who’d begun to stir again. His back hadn’t healed, like it had last time - but Cid and G’raha had been patiently chatting, discussing their plans. For you see, even if G’raha was going to not go to sleep, he still had to get this tower to rest. So… he couldn’t come with them, straight away. But seeing as - for all they knew - Omega was Allagan technology, he’d see if there was information here, while Cid dealt with finding out more in the area outside. However, the Carteneau Flats were off limits to most people - it was still being warred over by the three Grand Companies, and there was no way a large group could go there to seek Omega. Like it or not, Nero had found it before - and, perhaps, he could find it again.  
  
Down the stairs rushed Velas’a - his pants ripped from battle, his own magitek legs were visible - glowing in the same pulses as Cids’ did. With no Carbuncle following him, Velas’a barely had time to catch his breath.  
  
“You’re not going to believe this, Cid—!!”  
  
Cid looked over Velas’a, shifting to stand up. But… Nero was still gripping to him, and was now staring at him - slowly, his expression shifted to Velas’a, and a deep frown. “What’s going on,” Cid stated. Velas’a simply shook his head. Clearly, it was something he needed to see. But Nero wouldn’t let go… well. “G’raha, help me get him on my back.”  
  
Now, they both knew how heavy Nero was - it hadn’t made sense before, but now it did. Whatever metal and ooze controlled Nero, they were heavy-duty. Quickly, the two moved - Nero placed piggy back-style on Cids’ back - G’raha making sure, honestly, to keep the bandages on his… friend. Was Nero a friend to G’raha? Not even he knew. It was weird, to all of them. Not that weird wasn’t nice.

* * *

At the top of the stairs, in the throne room of the former Emperor Xande, stood ten people. And no Voidgate. That, really, was the important thing in the scene. The sun was setting, and the group seemed confused - that is, out of the people who weren’t debating who got the Wind-Up Onion Knight from Xandes’ corpse. (A morbid thing to debate, but on the other hand, it was a cute little automation based on an ancient warrior.)  
  
The lack of Voidgate, however, made Nero try and raise his head - damnit, his neck hurt. Doga and Unei, however, still stood there - still stood in this realm, not being grabbed or enslaved or struck by other clones. Cid gently nudged Nero, so he could see them better - Doga and Unei seemed to be confused, as well.  
  
“…Could it be…” Doga mumbled, looking straight at Unei, “that it is already broken?” Doga was so very quiet, looking over at the setting sun, and the rising moon.  
  
Unei placed a hand to him, softly sighing. “It would make a little sense - but it also would not. If time has gone backwards, brother…” she replied, looking him in the eyes. “I saw nothing in my dreams, in any case.”  
  
From behind Unei, though, a soft voice spoke up. Bolormaa had given up on getting the doll. “…Pardon me, Unei,” Bolormaa said, with a soft bow, “but you spoke of your dreams. Why…?” Bolormaa wanted to understand not only her allies, but these Allagans. After all, perhaps it would help her figure out not only her blade, but her own haze whenever she tried to sleep.  
  
Unei sighed. “While Doga is a master mage - as the original was - I… can see dreams, though they are nowhere as clear as the true Unei would have seen. My visions are uncontrollable… and, after entering the Void, I’ve had no more. If you wanted then… I’m sorry,” Unei said, ending in a mumble - before, at the footsteps of Cid (carrying Nero) approaching them, giving a small frown. “But… even so! I should have seen something, if the Cloud of Darkness had made peace with us.”  
  
“Hah,” Nero said, keeping his eyes closed. “True thing… original thing… didn’t you learn _anything_ from me?” he asked, before trying to laugh - no, no, he couldn’t laugh anymore. “Birth doesn’t define you. It’s your actions which do.”  
  
Now, usually, Nero’d feel a lot more confident saying that - his voice not wavering or cracking. It’s why him and Cid could never got along. Cid was gifted far too much due to his birth, and Nero really had thought it was just his birth which defined him to Garlemald. But Cid running away… wasn’t that his actions defining him? Damnit, Nero shouldn’t be thinking of that, even as he felt Cids’ soft shoulder and his ticklish beard against him. Continuing - now that Doga and Unei (and Bolormaa) seemed focused on him, Nero smirked. “Doga. You’re a fine mage. And Unei? You’re quite good with a pistol - I should know. Shooting out the eye of a monster from far away?  
  
…I told you that I’d not forget it.” Hah, that should sate them. But the piercing blue eyes of the third one, that Au Ra, made Nero tilt his head. “I don’t know you - not as well as these others,” Nero said, frowning. “In that other time we did this? You weren’t around.”  
  
Bolormaa took a step backwards, warily. “…I wasn’t?” she asked, her tone a mix of confusion and fear. Already, Bolormaa had felt out of place in this group - she had only joined them recently, since they had both turned up at church to aid Marques. Well, er, Cid. The only reason Bolormaa didn’t back away more, is that she clanked into the armour of Theodora - who seemed to be eying Doga and Unei even more, from under that darkened suit of armour. Theodora casually put an arm over Bolormaa - after all, they had been the first to trust the Au Ra.  
  
Still. Nero nodded - before letting out a soft whine. “You didn’t. To be honest, the Warriors of Light were very different. Hah - I’ll be willing to explain, after this. But even if you didn’t - Bolormaa, was it? You never beat me before, and you didn’t now. But you’re still strong,” Nero said, his head resting on Cid a little heavier - Cids’ legs beginning to tremble. “After all, if you weren’t, there’d be more scales for sale.”  
  
Oh, Nero had been going to well at reassuring the group. Theodora snarled, as Bolormaa shrugged. Sure, it hadn’t affected her much, but… well, it was actually a little reassuring. Still… Bolormaa frowned, touching her cheek. “And who, exactly, would buy Auri scales,” she stated, remaining in the firm grip of Theodora.  
  
Nero didn’t reply, simply smirking - before Theodora spoke up, their voice booming from their heavy outfit. “We may have it wrong,” Theodora stated - before a pleased shriek came from the group by the treasures. “Rhel - good timing.”  
  
Rhel sat in the group, her new Wind-up Onion Knight clicking. Sasaxia pouted - a few scratches on her arms. Theodora gave a confident nod. “If I may ask - has there been any stirring in the Void, in recent days?” they asked, trying not to let any emotion enter their voice. Not only did Theodora feel like they had solved what was happening, but it was something they’d considered for a long while. Honestly, it was one reason they wore armour so heavy - not only to protect themselves from any taint, from ancient Scholar-based books, but because…  
  
“Actually,” Rhel said, approaching Theodora, “there’s been a lack of activity - a lot less Voidsent have been trying to enter this realm. And the ones who’ve been slipping though have been on the lesser rungs. The leading theory was that the stronger ones were binding their time— Theodora, were you a thaumaturge?”  
  
Theodora nodded, before adding a correction. “Am. This study into faeries and the land of Nym is… simply a side study, until a time where the taint is understood and curable.” However, Theodora and Rhel both seemed to be getting the same idea. By this time, the rest of the group had moved over - to where the setting sun could be easily seen. It was quite the large group - Theodora, for one, was surprised that Blieraux or Lucina hadn’t spoken up— huh. Lucina - their White Mage - wasn’t anywhere to be found. Perhaps she had wandered off after the death of Xande. That was not something that could be held against her - this was the messiest part. “If I may…” Theodora said, looking over everybody, “this theory has not been tested. However, if you may answer one more question, Doga and Unei?”  
  
After a pause, Theodora almost seemed to loom over the two clones. “You lingered in the Void. What, exactly, do you know of the Voidsent Diablos - has he been ended?”  
  
…The Nullstone. A stone which could destroy a Voidsent, soul and body. It had been used to capture and destroy Diablos - quite an adventure, between dealing with Nidhogg and the Warriors of Darkness. And it was one that none of them remembered - except for, that was, Theodora. Now, Theodora didn’t know how they remembered, only that they did - something which they’d seen while studying with their rod. That was the main reason they’d gone and picked up a book instead.  
  
The clones paused for a moment, talking between each other, until… “Diablos is no more,” Doga said.  
  
“Then,” Theodora said, “that is enough proof. You stated, Scaeva, that we were sent back in time. Garlond backs up your claims, as does the cat.  
  
…It may have only been this realm, the realm of Spoken. Whilst we have forgotten, the Void has not. And that would mean… the task which summoned the Cloud of Darkness has been stalled forever, in that realm.”  
  
The entire group seemed to pause, to consider this. To be quite honest, a few of them didn’t get it - especially Sasaxia and Velas’a. (Unlike his older brother, Velas’a wanted to stay away from the Void and any corruption - and so, remained ignorant. As for Sasaxia? Again, letting the sylph know about the Void and what happened in it was the worst idea this side of Eorzea.) Rhel, however, seemed to be deep in thought.  
  
“…That’d explain a lot,” she finally said - agreeing with the larger mage. “With the loss of Diablos, and… whatever happened with the Cloud of Darkness, no wonder Voidsent’ve been wary.” Rhels’ tail twitched, before looking to the rest of the group. “But if we’re done here, we should head back down.”  
  
G’raha shook his head. “I have something to tend to here - you go ahead—”  
  
“Don’t do this, raha,” Nero interrupted, still lazily resting his head on Cid. Cid, for his part, was really trying his best, as he was sure his legs would have given out by now. “Not now. Please.” Nero didn’t want G’raha to lie to him - he was sure he was going to! He’d lie and seal himself away, and there was nothing Nero could do. At least, that’s what he thought. It’d make sense - somebody he liked, and he’d vanish just like that. Just when had Nero turned from seeing G’raha from a child, somebody who didn’t deserve to control Allagan technology… to caring this damn much? That was a mystery for another time.  
  
However, G’raha let out a laugh. “I’m not doing that, Nero. But somebody has to check the tower isn’t draining power, don’t they?” Seeing a familiar look in Neros’ eyes, G’raha added - looking right at Cid, “and I don’t think Cid’d survive if he kept carrying you around.” Honestly, Cid was being really nice, carrying Nero.  
  
But even Cid had a breaking point. Not that he’d reached it yet, but Cid let out a large laugh. “I don’t know - maybe if Nero lost some weight, we’d be able to stick with each other. But you’d better return, G’raha…” Cid said, before turning - slowly, for Nero was still on him and his back was starting to ache - to Doga and Unei. “You two, come with us. There’s a bed waiting for you at the Ironworks.”  
  
An actual home for Doga and Unei… alongside Cid and Nero. Of course G’raha would return to them, once his work was done. The rest of the group had found a warp to the bottom - to outside the tower. There would need to be a true discussion about what this meant for them, being out of line with the Void. They’d need to also listen to Nero talk about the former Warriors of Light, alongside Cid. The group of so many wandered, softly, though Mor Dhona… the very crystal around them still humming with the song Amon had been playing, amplified by the tower and crystal both.  
  
It still annoyed Nero. A lot of this annoyed him, as he grumpily whispered to Cid. “Didn’t let me say goodbye to ‘raha, did you,” he said, trying not to sound too angry. Even if, yes, he was pissed off.  
  
Cid shrugged a little, his shoulders tired. “Don’t you trust him, Nero?” Cid said, before chuckling. “It’s you. Of course you don’t.” Garleans weren’t… known for trusting their own, or any others. Really, it’d taken Cid a while to… get used to this. Any of this - growing used to contact… to affection. Was this affection that Nero was showing him? Damnit, Cid couldn’t shake the feeling Nero was trying to show affection.

* * *

Once they returned to the Ironworks - really, just Cid and Nero for now, for Doga and Unei ended up staying alongside G’raha (for now) - Cid couldn’t hold on anymore. He’d made it all the way to his small, basic room - before nearly dropping Nero into his bed. Unlike Neros’ old bed in the Empire, Cid had clearly not only slept in this bed, but it was old. A little hard.  
  
Collapsing onto a rather comfortable-looking chair, Cid let out a long groan. Weary, he looked to Nero - thank the Twelve, he’d laid the man on his front. (Stomach?) Either way, he hadn’t laid him on his injury. Bandages were good, but if that ooze dripped out of Nero, who knew what’d happen? Cid then sighed, as he heard Nero beginning to talk.  
  
“…And this is where the grand Cid nan Garlond works? It’s a dump,” Nero said, trying to look around more. Walls bare of books and floors bare of half-finished technology - Nero tried to laugh, but that still hurt too much.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Cid put a hand to Nero. “This is my bedroom. Believe it or not, Nero, some of us have separate bedrooms and studies.” Even if Cid wouldn’t admit he had another bed in his workshop. It was unhealthy according to quite a few, but at least Cid was trying to separate his work and sleeping area. Not very well - a partition separated the two sections of the room, sometimes shaking rather dangerously.  
  
Cid continued, stretching a little. “Speaking of, I think we’ve had enough work for the day. But tomorrow, you’ve got a big day.” At Neros’ grumbles, Cid stood a little - moving to the light switch. Pausing for a moment, Cid wondered. He’d given Nero his bed, huh. And there was no way he could move the other man - or leave him alone. “You promised you’d tell those Warriors of Light about the future - and I’ll have to be there, won’t I,” Cid said.  
  
“You always stuck around them more,” Nero noted, trying to keep watching Cid. Now what was he doing, as he turned the light off - that was something that… well, Spoken needed. Now Nero knew that he was an automation, it almost made sense a little more. They closed their eyes and eventually began to mumble, so it must be something which helps them. It… wasn’t laziness. Didn’t they do… whatever it was when they were on their backs, however? That was something Nero had observed back in college, and also recently, with Thancred. (He’d need to contact Thancred, wouldn’t he? That would be fun.) If that was the case, why was Cid grabbing a blanket and moving to that chair, Nero wondered.  
  
Nero didn’t wonder it for long, as Cid took off those damn cute goggles, and began to disconnect his magitek arm - a slight fizzling sound filling the room, the only light now coming from Neros’ fingers. Right, Nero’d… have to cover those, huh. Curling up his fingers, Nero brought them closer to him—  
  
—before realising Cid had taken off his shirt, to slip on something more casual. Sure, they’d done it a few times in the academy, usually when one of them realised it was far past time to be wearing their uniforms. Nero noticed, however, that Cid had quite a few new scars. Not just the ones crossing his chest, but down his back as well. Quite amazing, Nero’d say, if he wasn’t still considering what Cid was doing. The pants soon followed, and, honestly? Cid was rather thick and stocky, but it was those hips that Nero liked the most.  
  
If, er, he liked him, that was. Back in the academy, Cid was more prone to switching out of his skirts and uniform straight after he got back from any lectures, disgusted at how he was seen by everybody else - before going to the bathroom to use odd silvery paint. Honestly, though? Nero never worried about how Cid was presented. He was, after all, Cid nan Garlond - Nero had wondered why he hadn’t just begun to force people to call him a boy. Was it something Gaius had told Cid?  
  
It didn’t matter to Nero, as it didn’t matter that Cid had changed to a baggy shirt and pants, damned comfortable clothes - though he tried not to stare at Cids’ third eye. Unlike most Garlean third eyes, it was a blue. Just another thing which made Cid cuter and stand out more - now why did he hide it? There was a lot that Nero didn’t understand about Spoken. Nero still had his underclothes on, that armour he’d brought with him. “Little help, Garlond?” Nero asked, stretching out one of his legs. “Even if that fight took a bit out of me, I can’t rest with all of… this on.”  
  
Cid sighed. “If you insist,” he said, turning the light back on - before moving to at least Neros’ leg armour. True, that would probably dent his bed a little too much. Then he’d need to replace it, and Jessie would get onto him for how much all of this cost. As he began to unstrap Neros’ arm guards, Cid still looked at his face. “Do you sleep?”  
  
…Huh. So that’s what it was called. Nero sighed, holding his arms out more - damnit, he hated this, as Nero shifted to his side. He was being so childish, needing this done for him. “No - I don’t waste my time that way.”  
  
Okay, that gave Cid a little chuckle, as he moved from one arm to the next one. “No wonder you’re so grumpy.” As Nero gave a confused pout, Cid seemed to pause. No, Nero didn’t just have wrist guards, but a device—  
  
—huh. It seemed to be broken, whatever it was - it seemed to be a device to track energy sources, but it was completely black. How very curious - casually, Cid removed it - before Nero groaned. “Give that back, Garlond,” Nero said, unable to move. But softly, Nero then shook his head. “At least, don’t just break it. It stopped beeping at the Crystal Tower.”  
  
Nero, however, was quickly shut up - as Cid put his hand to his cheek. “I wouldn’t break it. Besides, knowing you, it’d just explode if anybody else tampered with it.”  
  
Damn, Nero squirmed at that touch, trying not to show his damn redness. No, not the redness on his back, the redness in his… cheeks? Did his body even have cheeks now? Did it ever? That regret and anger buried his feelings again, and as Nero focused again, Cid had moved to Neros’ legs. His small boots slipped off easily, and Cid couldn’t help but ask…  
  
“Why did you bring all this? It’s still Garlemalds’ technology.”  
  
Nero sighed, burying himself into the bed a little more. “It’s mine.” It hurt to admit it. Nero was… what did he feel about it?  
  
Once Cid heard that, he seemed to soften his movement, moving to remove the armour far more carefully. “You were always proud of what you did, Nero.” As his fingers rubbed over one of the pieces he’d removed. “…When did you make this, exactly?”  
  
Trying to look down at Cid - why did he have to be at the foot of the bed, other then to remove his leg armour - and smirking, Nero tried to hide the pride in his voice. Not very well, of course - his pride was all that he had, at times. “It was a moon before going to Ultima Weapon - at least, this version. The 43rd, I’d say.”  
  
…Huh. Cid frowned. “This material is similar to Ultima Weapons’ - had you ever noticed?” Cid said - noticing Nero shaking his head, as the last of his armour was removed. Sure, he still had the underclothes on - but, really, that was only his pants. His shirt had seemed to melt when Amon cut into him, after all.  
  
Once again, the light went off - before Nero spoke up again. “Garlond. You are not sleep… ing in that chair,” Nero said, shifting over as best he could. His back was now pressed against the wall, and Cid looked from the chair to the bed. “What, don’t you trust me?” Nero added, trying to sound… authentic.  
  
Now, Cid wasn’t sure how he felt about Nero, but it would be nicer then resting in that chair. His back and arms were still sore - and, so, Cid slipped into bed next to Nero. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, Nero closing his own eyes and beginning to think over not just the day, but… everything.  
  
Once Cid and Nero woke up, Cid could feel a heavy weight around his chest, around his body. For a moment, he froze up, until he realised… it was Nero, wrapped around him, spooning him. That was a little concerning, but… beginning to breathe normally again, Cid could feel Nero letting his fingers move with the breathing, seeming to examine it. So very softly, Nero began to withdraw his arms… before Cid put his hands over Neros’.  
  
“Stay a little longer.”


	10. Chapter 10

It didn’t take long for Cid to rig up a wheelchair for Nero. No, that was easy. The hard bit was convincing him to get into it. “Come on, Nero - it won’t bite,” Cid said, frowning. Was that what Nero was worried about? Cid wouldn’t be hurting Nero - that was a lesson that it took a while to learn, of course. For Cid, as well…  
  
Nero rolled his eyes, still almost flat against the wall. Even as Cid had gotten changed - again, around Nero - the injured automation hadn’t tried to move. His back felt like it was both burning and cracking apart, at the same time. The bandages really had helped, it seemed - at least it didn’t feel like he was spilling out anymore. On the other hand, that wheelchair… did look comfortable. But if he got in it, then Nero would admit he needed help.  
  
…Nero tol Scaeva needed help, and he needed to admit it. However, it hurt, it hurt to even consider it. As Nero struggled, though, Cid then nodded to himself.  
  
“Can’t you get to it?” Cid said - knowing Nero well. He’d rather a challenge then pity. Just as he predicted, Nero scowled at him - beginning to drag himself over to the wheelchair, quickly flopping himself into it. It only took Nero a moment to realise he’d been tricked. Cid let out a little laugh. “There you go. It’s got a rudimentary steering system, but it wouldn’t go well on crystal, so you’re limited to pretty much to Reverent Toll for now.”  
  
Admittedly, Cid could - no, should have done more. But when you only had a bell or two to throw something together, then you couldn’t use your finest technology. Cid then looked down at Nero, and smiled. “We’ll be meeting with the Warriors of Light soon - and G’raha should be with them.”  
  
“And if he’s not?” Nero asked, trying very hard to not show his mix of distrust and annoyance. Damnit, he couldn’t walk. He couldn’t stand tall, he couldn’t be free. On the other hand, again, he could be… dead. Destroyed. Whatever Amon did, Nero was thankful he wasn’t dead. Now that’d be embarrassing, for one. Surviving the Void and facing Omega…  
  
…Nero couldn’t help but think back to Omega, as Cid began to leave the room. For sustenance, Nero assumed. Food, was it? Yes, food. While Cid was gone, though, Nero wheeled slowly towards the messy set of drawers. Even if he couldn’t use his legs, and he couldn’t get himself washed up? Like hells he was going to go out and present himself shirtless and bandaged and injured. Now, in any other situation, Nero would not be wearing Cids’ shirts. But his own coat had been packed away elsewhere, at his own campsite. G’raha would know where it was, but Nero didn’t want Cid to know where it was.  
  
You know. Because Nero assumed he’d be leaving again. As Nero looked though Cids’ clothes, however, his eyes raised at one of them. On him, it would be a loose shirt - but for Cid, it’d be far too long. Especially with how Cid presented himself. Before putting it on, however, Nero noticed a small tag… signed by Gaius. Freezing for a moment, Nero put it back without reading it. Of course they still… they both still had conflicting feelings. It didn’t take long for him to find another comfortable shirt, one which wasn’t some form of gift from their shared… master? Master was what Nero would call Gaius. Would have called him.  
  
…Maybe Gaius would have believed him. Whatever the case, Nero began to wheel himself out of the room, a soft smile on his lips. Now, he needed to plan how he’d explain the future… alongside Cid. (Cid, really, had stayed in contact with them more - so he’d have more to say.)  
  
Of course, with this group, Nero was sure it wouldn’t go well - even if he had complete knowledge of their future. Honestly, Nero was prepared for… quite a bit of fun.

* * *

Once Cid and Nero left together - Nero insisting he was fine - the group were to meet in the Rising Stones. It was, really, the best place for it. Sure, they could just go to the bar, or all pile into the Ironworks, but there was a lot of spare space in the Rising Stones. That, and there were a lot more wards here, to hold back any threats who might want to listen in. (It was curious, then, that Urianger could enter. Was it because he was invited? Were Ascian like vampire? That was something none would know the answer to.)  
  
Alphinaud was standing with Cid and Nero, in front of the large group - not only the Warriors of Light had come to discuss the future, but as Cid had said… G’raha, Doga, and Unei were back - alongside the Archon. Y’shtola sat near the back, drumming her fingers against her knee - glancing around. Ever since she’d awoken in… well, this timeline, she’d become prone to just… staring at people. Papalymo sat next to her, with Lyse (in Hyur glamour) resting next to him, quite adoringly - Lyse trying her best not to cuddle Papalymo. The Warriors of Light sat in other chairs Tataru had dragged in, cheap ones that were to be sold at a later time. Thancred remained standing, though - looking over at the seated Bolormaa. And Urianger was loosely being held by Moenbryda, softly being nuzzled.  
  
“As I said up on the top of Sycrus Tower,” Nero said, trying not to smirk, “this has happened before. I’d have to say… at least one year ago.” Yes, a year - even if Nero had lost track of time while seeking Omega.  
  
Cid nodded. “If it was just Nero remembering, I’d say it was just him trying to fool us. But I remember as well - you heroes…” Cid began, crossing his arms. No, it hadn’t been the same Warriors of Light. And some of them were different. But these guys were the Warriors of Light as well, so… “You took down not only more Primal, but found ancient Allagan ruins, and saved all of us from Nidhogg as well. Before we lost our memories, we were about to try and take down another threat.”  
  
“Omega,” Nero said, wheeling a little backwards. “A powerful machine more beautiful then Ultima. Now, I was going to let it out myself, but there was a sealed Primal that Omega was going to try and fight.”  
  
At mention of the sealed Primal, Lyse let out a soft whine - before Cid continued. “After Omega woke up though, it’s a blank,” he said, frustrated. “Whatever happened, we went back in time.”  
  
“And,” another voice said. Moenbryda was speaking up, Urianger trying not to get yelled at too much as she bounced her legs. “I came back to life. Which is weird, because I thought death was eternal.”  
  
Velas’to looked to Moenbryda, tilting his head. “…You died? I, um. I died too. Also, who are you? Other then… Uriangers’ girlfriend?” he said - trying to hide his own disappointment. Velas’to thought Urianger was cute, and an amazing Summoner, and somebody he’d… somebody he wanted to care for. Unlike a lot of the Scions. But… if Urianger had fallen for a Roegadyn, then they’d both… be the same, wouldn’t they.  
  
Moenbryda nodded. “Oh, right. I’m Moenbryda - student of Louisoix, came over to join you guys after I woke up again. Figured out how to kill Ascian, you know?” she said, holding Urianger closer. “And yeah, I’m also his girlfriend - well, it's a bit more, but...  
  
Wait, you also remember dying,” Moenbryda said, after a slight pause. No, she couldn’t ask about the crystal, about how he died. For once, she had some tact.  
  
Velas’to nodded, placing a hand to his chest. “I… I’m a summoner, Miss Moenbryda. But I ended up trying to summon too much, and, er, died, and became a Carbuncle,” Velas’to mumbled - before he felt his brother rest his head on him. Who would separate the Velas siblings?  
  
Nero spoke up again, looking though the crowd. His eyes settling on G’raha, his voice seemed to drop as he spoke again. “So, we’ve had two people come back to life, one wake up, and a lot forgetting the good they did. How… amusing.”  
  
“And one begin existing,” Thancred said, looking at Bolormaa. “We need to figure out why this has happened - and if there’s any other adverse effects.” Honestly, Thancred knew there was one. The crystal around his eyes, luckily masked by the darkness of the room. But he couldn’t ask everybody to strip off. “Does anybody have any idea of where we could go?”  
  
The first voice to reply - and the loudest, was Sasaxia. She had jumped up in her seat, awkwardly standing. To be honest, it still made Nero feel a little strange - for she had been a Dragoon before, and now she was a Dark Knight. “Well! Why not ask Gramps?” Sasaxia said, before feeling a glare from Rhel.  
  
“Sasaxia, we can’t just ask Ramuh what’s going on,” she said, already knowing Sasaxia wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “What if he doesn’t know?”  
  
“Can ask Loving One,” Sasaxia replied, softly smiling at Rhel. Loving One— Haurchefant.  
  
Rhel had said she wanted to hunt him down after this, for becoming a heretic and leaving his family. To be quite honest, however, House Fortemps was close to falling. In fact, Tataru had gotten a request from them to stay with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn - and was considering taking it up. Trying to hold back the nerves in her throat, Rhel nodded. “If we find Haurchefant, then he might know something - or the heretics may.”  
  
Nodding to herself, Rhel then heard the person next to her - Theodora - slightly shifting in their seat. Theodora then spoke, so very carefully. “Haurchefant was a man who showed only joy to us. If he has turned to a different side… there must be a reason. You— Cid nan Garlond. Do you recall Haurchefant de Fortemps falling to dark desires in this past timeline?”  
  
…Ah. Cid did remember what happened with Haurchefant - the old Warriors of Light had told him. Lowering his voice, Cid looked away - pulling down his goggles. No, he couldn’t face them during this. “…The only thing he fell to was death, I’m afraid to say. He was a hero until the very end. Saved your lives.” Cid still remembered seeing one of them carrying his shield out of the Vault, going to see him, and just… crying at him. It was probably Velas’a - even if he can’t quite remember how Velas’a carried himself in the old timeline.  
  
It was weird.  
  
What wasn’t weird, though, was Theodora speaking again - even if they had quite the dramatic voice, they were able to sound very confident in their words. “…We cannot dismiss the idea that he has fallen. Or that he has remembered.”  
  
Rhel tilted her head, before nodding. “We’ll find him, and figure it out. If he’s remembered, we can figure out how,” she said, before pausing for a moment. “And then tell him off for hurting his family. Did you hear that his brother was nearly caught running away?”  
  
…She spoke not of Emmanellian, but of Artoirel. The rumours about the entire family had grown louder and louder, but it was queer that the older Fortemps was more implicated as a heretic.  
  
“…If I may,” Urianger then said - relaxed into Moenbryda. “Alphinaud. Have you gotten word from Alisaie, in recent moons?”  
  
Alphinaud hadn’t spoken up during the meeting, being deep in thought - and when he spoke, his voice was a little scratchy. Perhaps he had a cold? “…No.” Alphinauds’ voice - his reply - was short, but filled with worry. At first, him and Alisaie had separated because she insisted she could ‘change their fate’ so very quickly. Unlike Alisaie, Alphinaud held the amnesiac fog - at least, for a while. He… didn’t remember much. But he had made a promise to one of the few he could remember from the future. It’s where he’d gone in Coethas… to meet with Estinien.  
  
Both of them, really, wanted to change fates. At least a little. Urianger shakily stood from Moenbryda, before limping over to Alphinaud. “I fear, then, our Lady Alisaie may has't descended to the Coils of Bahamut. If 't be true the lady's _not returned_...”  
  
Alphinaud nodded to Urianger - before seeming to absorb the words, and putting a hand to his grimoire. “Are you saying— she might have been down there for moons?” Damnit. Damnit, that would make sense - their amnesiac hazes seemed to lift around things they cared deeply for. And while Estinien had been that for Alphinaud, for Alisaie, it would be their grandfather. Grabbing for Urianger, Alphinaud got one of his heavily crystallized arms. “We have to check!”  
  
“…Alphinaud,” Urianger said, trying to shrug him off. “Try as we may to go, you and I - we cannot fight our way there alone.”  
  
“But it looks like we have leads,” Nero then said, looking up at the two Elezen. Damn, he wished he could stand up. “The Primal governing the Sylph and Levin both, a dead man turned to heresy, and the very spirit of the Calamity.” Nero then looked back towards the Warriors of Light, and also… the clones, and G’raha. “If you don’t mind me? I think I’ll be sitting out all of those.”  
  
Even if Nero could move and stand, each of those sounded dangerous. Meeting with a Primal, because of a child who walked the line between Sylph and Lalafell? Fighting though the very Allagan device which unleashed the Dreadwyrm? Or even, well, trying to hunt down somebody who tried to be a hero. He could pass. Besides. “I could use some more exploration of Sycrus Tower - after running into Amon, I have questions.”  
  
Cid put a hand on Nero - his goggles now off his eyes, softly frowning downwards. “You’re not going anywhere until your back’s better, Nero.”  
  
Grumbling, Nero looked up at him. “You’re not my boss, Cid.”  
  
“Yes, I am,” Cid said - crossing his arms. “You joined the Ironworks— how many times do I need to go over this?” It was strange that Cid didn’t bring up that, technically, Jessie was his boss, after he vanished for all that time. On the other hand, the Ironworks did have his name. Now, if they were the Jaye Ironworks, it would be another matter. (Of course, Cid liked Jessie.)  
  
G’raha had stood and moved over to them while Cid and Nero grumped at each other - beginning to inspect the wheelchair. “You know, there’s probably some literature stored inside the tower,” he said, tail swishing. “I could get you some of it, Nero.”  
  
Almost snapping his head back, Nero looked to G’raha - before putting his hands out to grab the Miqo’te, placing one to G’raha. Gently touching his cheek, Nero cracked a small smile. “Let me guess - they’re still in the Allagan language? Bring them, ‘raha - wouldn’t that be quite fun?”  
  
G’raha seemed to smile at Nero, showing his fangs a little. Though he was a Seeker of the Sun, G’raha had small fangs in his mouth. Perhaps it was part of his blood. “Think you can translate it, hm?”  
  
“Think - _hah_ , you don’t know me well enough, ‘raha,” Nero replied.  
  
Cid couldn’t help but snort, and decide to ask, well. “Is that what you’ll be doing at night from now on?” Nero, however, didn’t seem to see it as a joke. He simply nodded, curiously, and Cid couldn’t help but smile a little at him. Nero… well, he was trying his best to adjust.  
  
Meanwhile, Alphinaud had moved to address the people who were to go out as Warriors. “We’ll need to split up into groups - we’ll use our latest linkpearls to keep each other informed. But we’ll need to get ready - and decide who goes where,” he said, trying to keep himself stable. Deep in his body, he felt sick - perhaps it was because, well… he, too, was doing something foolish. Like Alisaie was - if she had truly gone into the Coils of Bahamut alone - Alphinaud had chosen to try and change fate in his own way…

* * *

Back when the Warriors of Light were seeking the Enterprise, Alphinaud had found an odd letter waiting for him. Blieraux would not let Alphinaud leave alone, even when he insisted - and, so, the two had gone together.  
  
The letter had asked for Alphinaud to go to the den of the Behemoth, the most dangerous part of the Highlands, to meet with the mysterious letter writer. While Alphinaud had summoned a Carbuncle to lead them, Blieraux held his spear proudly.  
  
That is, until a familiar voice seemed to echo though the deserted land. “You.” Blieraux did not seem to know the owner of the voice - but Alphinaud did, running forward. It had awoken something inside him, though a fog remained ripping at his mind, hiding away so very much.  
  
“Estinien!”  
  
The first Azure Dragoon - the man Blieraux had sparred over and over, fighting the desires of an inner dragon. A fun diversion, even if Blieraux couldn’t help but feel… no, never mind. From the cold ice came out the heavily-armoured Dragoon, landing in front of Alphinaud. And, bless him, it almost looked like Alphinaud was going to run and hug him.  
  
But, instead, Alphinaud grinned. “I— do you remember me, Estinien?”  
  
Grunting slightly, Estinien nodded. But, instead of pleasantries, he went straight into the serious things. “Nidhogg is alive again. And, again, I hold one of his eyes,” Estinien said - presenting the pulsating ball-like eye to the two. For a moment, his eyes met with the mask of Blieraux… but, well. Blieraux had proved himself as a second Azure Dragoon, as the eye pulsed at him.  
  
And that’s when Alphinaud made perhaps the largest mistake of this timeline. “Estinien - we both know how the eyes can channel Aether— let me take it! And then we can take out the other one once this ones’ drained!”  
  
There was a long pause, Estinien considering Alphinauds’ request. If the eyes were kept separate, by one who couldn’t be consumed by his emotions… he’d watched Alphinaud mature. And Alphinaud had been able to handle one when it was full of Nidhoggs’ rage. If anybody else could handle it… perhaps he could. Harshly nodding, Estinien held it to him - before speaking again. “Before you take it, know this. As soon as is possible, we fly to Nidhoggs’ domain - and end him once again.”  
  
It was a promise.

* * *

At least, that was what Alphinaud had promised. But keeping the eye hidden, and channeling the Aether… well, it was harder then he thought. His first idea had been to use it to remaster spells his body hadn’t quite adjusted to, ones he’d written down but forgotten. That hadn’t worked.  
  
…Now, though, as he looked at the group? He had another idea. Especially as his eyes met with the Summoners, the Velas siblings. If the elder one had become a Carbuncle after dying? Perhaps he could… use the same idea to channel out any corruption and cruelness from the Eye. There had to be more uses for the power, mind you - perhaps they’d need it to craft more magic, perhaps to help take down Bahamut again.  
  
Who would win between Nidhogg and Bahamut? That was something Alphinaud didn’t want to answer - really, he wanted to just help Estinien handle this. Having people and creatures coming back to life was good and all, but it—  
  
—Twelve, Gaius had been alive again. It was almost lucky to them that he didn’t remember. Who else would have these memories? Who else… what other enemies of them were alive again, and did any of them remember anything?!  
  
Just something else he would need to check for. But, for now, they needed to group up and go to their three paths… Ramuh, Bahamut, and… Haurchefant Fortemps. All that Alphinaud could hope was that they could handle it - all of it. As for him? He was going to try and get to his sister. Stopping Bahamut, it seemed.


	11. Chapter 11

The East Shroud crackled with levin energy, filling the trees. Sasaxia lead the group - Papalymo and Lyse close behind. Really, it was Velas'to who lingered - because he was not happy about this. "And why would a Primal listen to us? All we do to them is end them."  
  
Velas’to Faegyln, though he had been extended an offer to join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, had never felt comfortable as one of them. Unlike them, he was not just an idealist - but perhaps he thought more could be done then it could. After all, there was still no cure to tempering, and yet he insisted the Scions were evil for slaughtering them.  
  
The only reason he remained with them was their knowledge - many of the Scions thought he might become a threat, for his desires for a world free of hurting Beast Tribes. A shared goal, but not one he’d try and work towards in a friendly manner. It was curious, then, that he’d died in a previous timeline.  
  
Not that Lyse and Sasaxia seemed to notice, as the two of them talked so very casually. Now, Lyse was still wearing the mask of Yda around not only Sasaxia, but around Papalymo. She’d been so very close to revealing herself, but… he was gone by then. And now he was back - as if it’d never happened. Lyse… couldn’t just let him know that happened, or reveal her own crystal markings. No, for now, she wanted to keep him in the dark. It’d… be much better, for all of them.  
  
The trees waved in the soft breeze, sylphic whispers piercing the darkened air. Usually, Sylph would be ready to strike this group - but, no. Even those who were Touched Ones stayed away, warily eying the group. Papalymo looked back to Velas’to. “As I’ve told you many times, Velas, the Sylph are peaceful,” he said, frowning. “Besides. If we left Primal around, they’d drain all the Aether from Eorzea, and everything would die.”  
  
Huffing a little, Velas’to glared at the Lalafell. “Maybe it’d be better if, y’know, we all did die?” As he spoke, he put a hand to the book by his hip - not just because he felt he needed to, but because Velas’to sometimes thought it might be a sign of his point. For, you see, he’d gotten it in the period wherein Lightning Farron, a hero from another world, came to visit Eorzea. Not only had the boomerang-like book come from that period, but so had the quill he used.  
  
Papalymo, though, huffed back - stopping to look back at the Miqo’te-esque man. “I don’t know about you, Velas’to Faegyln, but I don’t want to die!”  
  
Papalymos’ words seemed to echo, as the air stilled. Not only because Lyse stopped moving at what Papalymo said - he still… he must not know. Softly, she approached her… partner. Yes, partner. Placing a hand to him, Lyse shook her head. “That’s right! None of us are going to die!”  
  
“…Even if we’re going to face a Primal,” Velas’to said, looking to the two Scions. Sometimes, Velas’to wanted to pull that damn scarf off of the lady. “Besides. Unlike Ifrit-kun, Titan-tan, and Garu-chan - we haven’t taken on Ramuh… Ramuh-shi.” Though Velas’to wasn’t from the Far East - he was from across the sea - he tried to show his summons respect.  
  
“…Are stupid one,” Sasaxia said, even as she stopped moving. The skies seemed to crackle more, angry, visible lightning dancing across the gathering clouds - seeming to pass though the purple leaves. “Is not how Lord Ramuh works, Heh- _Less_ -Toe. Lord Ramuh… is not Angry One. Not like other. If are giving offering, am sure Gramps will listen!”  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Velas’to decided to ask, well… “Why do you call a Primal your grandfather? You’re clearly not a Primal.”  
  
Sasaxia closed her eyes. “Well…  
  
When was Little One, was brought in like Podling. Was placed near to growing Chosen One - Chosen One soon given to Tall Ones. Um… was told by Elder One Frixio that was part of legend.  
  
One born of Man, and one of Land. One of Light, and One of Dark. If These Ones would prove peace could be brought, then—”  
  
“Our lands would not fall to Darkness,” Lyse finished, looking to Sasaxia - before gasping a little. “You know that story too?!” she asked, bouncing a little - kneeling a little next to the younger one of the two. It was a story she heard in Ala Mhigo… because, well, she was a Sylph with a stone in her neck. If Sasaxia knew, then… “Wait, you’re some sort of… Dark Knight, right?”  
  
Sasaxia nodded, putting her hand to Lyse. “Elder One told over and over, and then - well, This One got blade of Levin, to take out Bad Ones! Remember, This One showed when Friendly Ones entered Shroud?” Sasaxia said, trying not to rave too much - the group having moved closer. Sasaxia was always so proud of herself, but also… very out there, as she drew the blade.  
  
That is, until some of the crackling lightning hit the blade - Sasaxia dropping it for a second, before scrambling to pick it up. The energy around them was building… before, in front of them, Ramuh appeared. A few of the hidden observing Sylph continued to spy - purple hues hidden by the trees - and the monsters nearby ran, as the Primal floated down. Landing gently on the ground, rains began to fall around the group.  
  
And, of course, Velas’to stepped forward. “—You’re Ramuh. Guardian of the Sylph, and silent storm. You’re… beautiful,” he said - bowing, gently closing his eyes - until Velas’to felt cracking near his ears.  
  
Ramuhs’ very voice seemed to fill all four of their ears. “…Warrior of Light, child of _Exodus_. Do not bow,” the voice echoed - Velas’to quickly standing. Tilting his head a little, Velas’to then frowned.  
  
“Child of… Exodus? Er, I’m sorry, but I don’t know who that is?”  
  
Ramuh shifted a little, gaze now focused on the Miqo’te - before a strike hit him, knocking Velas’to down in a bright flash. When he stood… whatever glamour he had on had vanished, and Papalymo let out a gasp.  
  
“Viera— they’re real?”  
  
Velas’to now stood tall, his ears pricked upright - rabbit-like, twitching along with his smaller nose. His tail, meanwhile, was a lot smaller - still clearly there, but soft and springy. Shakily, Velas’to got back to his feet - his long feet which seemed to be constantly on his toes. Putting his now elongated claws to his book, Velas’to winced. “Y-yeah. Me and ‘a - we’re Viera. But, uh, we were born at sea, y’see.”  
  
“A Viera without a Wood,” Ramuh said, the voice echoing - and continued, as Velas’to looked back to the Primal. “Small wonder you are _empty_ , striving for what cannot be done.” The wisdom of the Elder Primal seemed to echo though all of them - an ageless wonder to his words. As he judged Velas’to, a small tug on him seemed to catch his attention.  
  
Sasaxia was looking up at Ramuh, eyes wide. “— _Gramps! **Gramps!**_ ” she said, trying not to scream too loudly. “Am sorry for summoning - was not This One which did! Do not know who did. But, um— have questions! Lot of questions!”  
  
Ramuh didn’t move. Instead, Ramuh examined the small Lalafell - a warmth in his gaze. Both of his children had come back - the Chosen Ones. (Well, Sasaxia wasn’t a Chosen One by birth. No, her abandonment had made Ramuh decide to entrust the Lalafell with this very destiny.) After a long pause, Ramuh put a large hand out - for Sasaxia to crawl onto. “It was not Sylph who summon me, nor your will.  
  
…For I was not summoned.”  
  
“What?” Papalymo asked - clearly wary.  
  
Ramuh closed his eyes, letting out a long hm - seeming to take forever. “…Faded Magicite, from a faded past, was awoken - as much has begun to.”  
  
Velas’to stepped closer to the Primal, reaching out a hand to touch him - before a blast of thunder seemed to knock him back a little. Awkwardly stumbling on his feet, Velas’to scowled - before Ramuh continued. “Champion of the Sylph, _Sasaxia_. Champion of Man, _Lyaxia_.” At the mention of her Sylph name, Lyse gave a little grumble. “You have seen much, and seeked to spread your influence.  
  
Take my gift… of remembering—”  
  
“…Can you do that?” Velas’to asked - before Papalymo gave a shrug.  
  
“He’s a Primal, Velas’to. For all we know, he’ll be tempering us—”  
  
Ramuh slammed his staff down - silencing Papalymo. “You cannot be tempered. Any of you - for your minds and souls are separate.”  
  
…Their minds and souls were separate? Now, Lyse wasn’t an idiot - though she seemed it sometimes, to those who didn’t know her. The same with Sasaxia. Sasaxia, though, looked to Lyse with a small look of worry. The two of them had both learned to change their bodies though glamour - but that wasn’t what Ramuh meant.  
  
What Ramuh meant… almost sounded like… Sasaxia looked to Ramuh, nuzzling into his beard. “Um. Are meaning that Other Ones are having… Echo?” With the single nod from Ramuh, it seemed to take a moment for it to sink in. That moment was all it took for the feeling of power to gather around everybody - and suddenly, in a moment, memories came flooding in to all of them. The air, then, felt oddly empty for a moment… until it was filled with the screams of Papalymo, as he fell to the ground. Swiftly, Lyse ran to hold him.  
  
“Papa— Papalymo. Calm down!” Lyse said, clearly not calm herself. Papalymo, instead of answering, was kicking and… biting? At least, between the screams. Glaring towards Ramuh, Lyse felt the fabric covering her arms being ripped. Blood dripping down her arms where he bit - deep green blood. After all, she was a Sylph - their skin was easy to rip open, their blood was thick and sticky and oddly sweet. “What did you do, Lo— Ramuh?!”  
  
The Primal was quiet, looking to the two. “A life close to ending. A pain resonating. Memories can hurt. But… a soul rended, turned to Aether, can hurt more. None should survive, Child of Man.” Yet… Papalymo seemed to be calming, as his whimpers fell quiet. Instead, he just rested his head against Lyse, burying himself in her grip - before putting a hand to her scarf.  
  
“…Yeah, they’re gone,” Lyse whispered - kissing Papalymo on the top of his head. “And the rock’s pretty visible. I, um… it’s why I hide it.”  
  
Meanwhile, as the two bundled closer, Velas’to snarled. “—We’re not the only ones, are we - false Primal?” Of course, Velas’to was convinced that this Primal was fake - not that things were more complex. Ramuh ignored him, looking back to Papalymo and Lyse.  
  
Papalymo looked up to Ramuh, softly. “…R-right. Why were you summoned, Ramuh?”  
  
…The proper questions, for the Primal. Ramuh put Sasaxia down, turning away from the group. “…To understand, you must first know.  
  
You four, who are gathered before me, are children of the land of Hydaelyn. Long ago, Hydaelyn did not exist - nor did what would become it. Even your Gods and Primal are but children. Before Hydaelyn rose, there was the Land of the fal’Cie - and before that, twelve more iterations, sheltering their own stories and Warriors of Light. Some are tales of fantasy and politics, and some are tales of broken Man, caught in spirals of destruction.”  
  
A silence seemed to cover the group, as they listened - even if Sasaxia still twitched, and even if Lyse still bled. “Each world falls in order - and only some soul are brought back to the land of life, between each creation. Most souls remain asleep, waiting for the proper land to awaken in. None of us are aware of what makes these worlds live nor die… but I am from the sixth iteration.”  
  
Finally, Papalymo could speak again - even if he wanted to scream more, even if he wanted to try and show how much he hurt. “…And you know of the legends of the Children of Ramuh?” he whispered, before bundling back into Lyse.  
  
Ramuh nodded. “The Fourteenth Ramuh has spread word of the Blessed Ones, chosen by His hand, to His Children. Worry not - his Judgement has not passed.” As Ramuh talked, though, Velas’to - of all people - seemed to be in deep thought. His… Viera tail twitched, as he fingered across the bumps on his very special book. Damnit… this was more complex then he wanted.  
  
And then, he spoke up. “Fourteen iterations - d’ya think ours is the last, Ramuh?” For if it wasn’t… brr. Only some of them living? Damnit, he wanted to live - even if he didn’t deserve it.  
  
As he spoke, though, Ramuh felt Sasaxia hug him more. She reminded him of one of those people he’d assisted, in the sixth iteration - a wild child with a wise heart. “…None of us know what begins nor ends one. But…”  
  
“But…?” Velas’to asked, ears pricked up.  
  
“The state of all of you - having manipulated time - has altered the future. Before then, it seemed the iteration was to end, due to the awakening of two super weapons. Omega and Shinryu.  
  
Now… it is uncertain. The conditions leading to Shinryu being awoken have faded away,” Ramuh said as he looked to Papalymo - quite sure the man wouldn’t do that again if he didn’t need to. Even if the Shinryu wasn’t quite the same one that Ramuh had heard of, the one who seemed to herald the end of an iteration. “And Omega has gone back to rest.”  
  
Papalymo caught the gaze of Ramuh - frowning a little, as he looked to his hands. “When you say Shinryu was part of all of this - did I…”  
  
“No,” Ramuh stated. “Your last action was to hold back Shinryu. If it had awoken, you would have been but part of the Primal - a being made of despair and hatred.”  
  
Pausing for a moment, Ramuh couldn’t help but look to the skies. “…There are still others, from other iterations. Viera - may I see that boomerang?” Scrambling to grab it, Velas’to handed it over - beaming. Before he could begin to speak about how he got it, however, Ramuh seemed to frown. “An artifact of one who bared the burden of Eidolon, Esper - beings of Mist - turned to a weapon for those who may bring Hope. Treasure it, Viera.”  
  
With that, Ramuh gave the weapon back - before wearily looking at the group. “…I have energy for one more question - my magicite grows dull.”  
  
The group was quiet - who would ask the last question? That is, until Sasaxias’ voice echoed though the area, nearly a whimper. “…Can… These Ones stop world from dying? Am Champion of Ramuh.”  
  
Chuckling, Ramuh put a hand to her. “If there was a way to prevent it, it would need to be… a world separate from warring Gods, and free from Chaos. The Savior brought one for her future… the one iteration which had not faded with time. Perhaps you can do it… all those who have awoken, and those yet to see their truths.”  
  
Of course, Velas’to had to get in one last question, as Ramuh began to fade - the skies beginning to clear. “Savior—?! Who was this savior?!”  
  
The one word Ramuh gave as reply shook the Viera to his very core.  
  
“…Lightning.”

* * *

Ramuh had faded at least a bell ago, but nobody was eager to move. Papalymo had apologized to Lyse, and begun to bandage her arm. Lyse was grinning at him, having thrown off her entire shirt. She’d even removed her scarf, so that the Soul Crystal grown into her neck was visible. It was where a man would have their Adams’ Apple. “…It’s really okay, Papalymo. If I was in your place, I would have done more then biting, that’s for sure!”  
  
But then, Lyse paused - and hugged Papalymo again. He was here, he was alive, and now he knew why she was so worried about him. Instead of protesting, for once, Papalymo hugged her back.  
  
That was, until Velas’to spoke up, looking to the group. Sasaxia had begun to dig in the dirt near to the group - where Ramuh had vanished - curiously. A small off-green capsule remained in the ground - until Sasaxia picked it up, pocketing it.  
  
“So, uh… Lightning saved the… thirteenth iteration? Are we sure these things are real? I mean, Urianger might have some information, or… well, we could look for other evidence?”  
  
Papalymo looked up from his comfortable position in Lyses’ arms. “We’ll return to the Rising Stones - and call in Moenbryda to bring us some books from the Waking Sands. We’ve got a lot of reading ahead of us!”  
  
A long groan came from both Lyse and Sasaxia. Reading? Urgh. But… Lyse smiled. “You’ll be explaining the long words, right, Papalymo?”  
  
Papalymo smiled at the Sylph - the one who had been adopted by Yda, the one who seemed almost at peace with herself - and nodded. “Knowing you, I’ll be reading it all to you.”  
  
“ _Papalymo!_ ”

As the group began to walk, however, Papalymo couldn’t help but look up - huh. There was a Sylph fluttering down towards them, stopping them. “Small One!” they said, stopping right in front of Papalymo. “Keeper of the Champion of Man!”

“…You know I don’t need that title,” Papalymo mumbled, turning a soft red as both Lyse and Sasaxia began to peer at the Sylph, holding a scrap of paper.

With a twinkle in their eye, the Sylph forced it onto Papalymo. “Is only for Champion of Man. Secret.” Papalymo nodded a little, pocketing the paper quickly. He’ll read it later, away from the peering gaze of those two. After all, they needed to get back - they needed to find out more.


	12. Chapter 12

Seeking heretics was a dangerous game. It was why only three of them had volunteered. Rhel, for Haurchefant had confessed his love for her before they left to restore the Enterprise. Blieraux, for he was seen as an Azure Dragoon, for his skills with lance and flames both. And Theodora? They had insisted that they knew quite a bit about what would cause somebody to snap, to turn to hatred and darkness. Together, the three had no Chocobo, had no other pets with them - for they would need to remain hidden.  
  
It was, really, Blieraux who lead them. His steps seemed to be heating, the snow melting as he walked. The footprints, however, almost seemed to be more hoof-like then like an Au Ra. Theodora, meanwhile, had removed their cape - for it dragged far too much. No, instead, they wore it around their neck, bundled warmly. While Rhel had been using a little flame to guide them, it had gone out - for the three had arrived at their destination. Or, at least, the beginning of their journey. Snow covered much of the Central Highlands, but no more then Snowcloak. Hidden frozen tunnels filled much of the glacier - a common route for heretics.  
  
And it was one of these tunnels the three had stopped in front of. Looking back to the taller others, Rhel tilted her head. “It doesn’t look big enough to walk though.” And as Rhel said, it really didn’t. Theodora kneeled, putting a hand to the frozen tunnel, concerned.  
  
“…It was recently refrozen,” they stated, fingers curling around the ice. While it was too hard to simply break off, the ice was a slightly different colour - and Theodora then sighed. Standing again, Theodora firmly stood back. “By your spells, Rhel.”  
  
Without a word, Rhel slammed down her Augmented Hailstorm Rod , flames spreading from it to the snows and ice around them - steam sizzling up to the skies above them. A soft fog settled on them, and… the ice hadn’t melted. Not only had it not melted, but it seemed to glimmer in the heat of the flames.  
  
And Blieraux then spoke. “Let me handle this,” he said, a softness and fear in his voice that was not expected of him. Removing one of his gloves, Blieraux put a hand to the ice… and it began to melt, fading where it was touched. Rhel looked at him, trying to see past his expressionless mask - but there was nothing. Once he pulled his hand away, though, Blieraux placed his glove back…  
  
…and nodded to the group. “It is a simple… power of mine. My hands are like flame. My apologies - I thought that they would handle better then a Fire IV.” A shyness filled Blieraux, as he slumped over - nearly reaching the small size of Rhel. That is, until she put a hand to him - his flesh feeling comfortably warm. Which was weird, because they were still in the slushy mess of Snowcloak. But now, when Rhel used the same spell, the ice began to melt and fade away, turning to slush and a person-sized corridor though the wall.  
  
Blieraux nodded, as Theodora looked to him. “…This is our path.”  
  
“That’s right,” Rhel said. “While this is Snowcloak, Ishgardian hounds tracked a Fortemps scent to this wall. They couldn’t get though, however - and whatever we discover, we’ll need to decide if we will tell them what we learn or not.”  
  
While the three of them had promised to give over any information, Rhel… well, all three of them didn’t really like the idea of their friend being killed for… whatever happened. Her weapon placed back to her hip, Rhel began to follow Blieraux - who kept a gloved hand to the wall. Wherever it ran, the ice seemed to melt - leaving a trail back to the entrance.

* * *

However, it didn’t seem to take long to get though the frozen tunnel - there was only one route, even as it twisted and turned so many different ways. If it wasn’t for the mark in the wall, there were many ways the group would have been turned back. “Mirrors and tunnels,” Theodora commented, as they found the larger opening. Even it seemed to be masked by the glittering ice. If it hadn’t been for the black masses shifting near-invisibly, the group would have missed it.  
  
Those masses, though, made the group wary - and as they drew their weapons, one of them shifted to the entrance. And, well… many of the group had sighted a unicorn before. A four-legged beast, with a horrifying long head - this one masked in black, with piercing red eyes. Their heads were almost like Chocobo, but with long dog-like muzzles replacing the beak of the bird. Wingless, the unicorn had four legs - and tails which could take out an eye.  
  
You know, about as well as their single horn could. But this unicorns’ horn seemed even sharper, as the beast lifted its’ upper lip. An unearthly sound echoed though the chamber behind it, as the black beast began to stomp towards the group.  
  
However, instead of striking, it stopped in front of Rhel - ears pricked forward for a moment, shoving their muzzle into the Miqo’te. For a moment, Rhel froze - before the creature began to trot away, as if leading the group inside. Following eagerly, the three passed though the entrance… before freezing.  
  
The room was not what would be expected of a heretic, or in these icy corridors. For one, there was a fireplace - which seemed to fade into the semi-brick walls. They looked like brick, but shimmered with a darkness untold. The floors were a soft carpet, and the ceiling was a faded black… texture. A few soft couches surrounded the fireplace… but in one of them was a black cloaked Ascian, casually dozing as a few other of these darkness-tainted unicorn rested in the room.  
  
Once the one which had nuzzled Rhel came to the Ascian, however, the Ascian began to rise… rather calmly. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the Ascian, as they turned… and seemed to slump a little, seeing the crowd which had come to them. Silently, they placed a hand to the unicorn, softly petting it. “… _Thank you._ ”  
  
Now, if it was any other voice which had spoken, the group would have… well, they would have simply attacked the Ascian, maybe tried to capture them to take to the Scions. But the voice which came out of them was the voice of one Haurchefant Fortemps. As the Ascian stroked the unicorn, they looked back towards the group… and had a staff pointed at their face.  
  
“Either you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, or you’ve got a death wish,” Rhel stated, her tail stood up straight, her ears pressed back. To be honest, Rhel wanted it to be the former - if only because it meant that Haurchefant wasn’t dead. “So which is it?”  
  
The Ascian frowned, putting a hand to the staff. “…Rhel Fashonti. I’m afraid to say it’s the former. But worry not - I’ve been this way ever since we met. Do you wish to… sit down?”  
  
The four didn’t even need to state their answer, as they all moved to sit. Rhel, however, couldn’t hold her tongue. “Do you know what’s happened to your family?!”  
  
Haurchefant shook his head, putting his hands in his lap - after pulling off his red mask, of course. Underneath, his eyes were silver as always, and his smile remained so very… him. Not calm, ever so slightly ready to go off about his latest adventure. “I— I don’t. I’ve been seeking Lady Ysayle - she’s quite a splendid lady! She’s another chosen by Hydaelyn- and if she knew of the future, well. I thought she’d be able to change her own actions. But she’s rather elusive.”  
  
Raising an eyebrow - Rhel assumed the other two had as well - Rhel couldn’t help but slightly slam against Haurchefant, as she sat next to him. “Ishgard’s been trying to use this to kick them out,” Rhel said, grumpily. “I hear it’s been bad - and you left for some Lady?”  
  
Softly pausing, Haurchefant shook his head. “Did you not hear me? She’s not just some Lady. She… do you not recall, Rhel?” As Rhel shook her head, Haurchefant got to his feet again - a purple mark beginning to form on his face. Blieraux flinched, as a dark aura filled the room.  
  
Just like with Francel, the group felt a dullness ringing in their heads, pulling around them and reaching into their very heart. Blieraux, however, stood harshly as it begun - storming towards the Ascian Haurchefant. Haurchefant floated slightly away, as one of the black-tainted unicorns stood in front of him.  
  
“You— your _Nightmares_ shall not protect you!” Blieraux roared, body seeming to tremble with flames. From under their mask, embers began to spew forth with every breath, every snort. Haurchefant backed away more, more Nightmare gathering to protect their master. “ **Emet-Selch** —!!”  
  
The other two couldn’t move - for the memories flowing back were overwhelming - but Haurchefant didn’t seem too afraid of Blieraux. “You, of all _Esper_ , should know how Men can change. Or have you forsaken your past once again?” As Haurchefant spoke, he almost seemed to shift appearances a little - crude feathered wings appearing out of his aura, blackened and as if they were covered in soot.  
  
Blieraux huffed again, but stood down a little - ashamed, backing away. “You… create these beings of darkness. Tempered give them to their Gods. You’ve not changed.”  
  
“…I never worked with Lady Ultima, Belias. I was still of Light - do you truly mistake me for my other counterpart? I’d never mistake a friend like you for _Lofhrif_!” Haurchefant replied, calming as he pet his Nightmare. The memories had nearly finished returning to the others in the room - Theodora moving first to seperate the angry Au Ra… was he an Au Ra? But anyway, Theodora stood between them, a hissing seeming to come from under their armour.  
  
But Blieraux - Belias - seemed to be calming. The smoke had stopped, and he had stopped trembling in place. “…You’re right. But if you do not desire to destabilize this realm - why did you take the form of a resident?!”  
  
Finally standing - wobbly, confused, unsure - Rhel nodded in agreement. “I don’t get half the things you’re saying, but - yeah, why would an Ascian take a life as an Elezen? It’s not a case like Lucia, is it?”  
  
…So she did remember. Haurchefant began to move back to the couches, so that they could all sit again - even if the Nightmare remained so very close. “It’s not exactly like our shared ally,” Haurchefant mused, before tilting his head. “…Before you ask, I… did not fade, once my life did. No, I continued to watch over all of you.  
  
I was always an Ascian, but I grew to admire House Fortemps - and their dear Unicorn. Since I wished to learn more of them, dearest Elidibus let me have a chance to live as one of them - in order to infiltrate Ishgard.  
  
And that was the last time I talked with him, or any other Ascian, until I could no longer stay in my body.”  
  
The words seemed to not take long for Rhel to understand. No, instead, she simply clung to her former husband. Former husband? Well, they got married while Haurchefant petitioned Edmont to allow them into Ishgard. All of them had needed a distraction, and a wedding was a grand one. “You’re a moron, Haurchefant,” Rhel said, trying not to sob.  
  
Haurchefant beamed at her. “And you’re more of one for following me. A pity I never gave you one of my Nightmare - they’re beautiful,” he muttered, as he began to rub his hand though her hair.  
  
What Rhel said next, though, threw Haurchefant for a loop. “You’re truly a Fortemps, aren’t you?” Haurchefant let out a confused whine, and Rhel continued. “A big moron who’s quirky and silly, but don’t mean any harm. Even if you keep causing it.”  
  
Laughing a little, Haurchefant nodded - noticing her hand had shifted to his chest. “…There’s no scar there anymore.” Haurchefant still recalled that event - he’d never forgotten. “But now you remember why I need to contact Ysayle, yes? Perhaps we can stop Shiva - or even the attack of Vishap!”  
  
…Haurchefant, even if he was an Ascian in a cave, was still as idealistic as ever. But as those two talked, Theodora looked to Blieraux. “…So you are not of this realm?” they asked, the hissing having not stopped. Blieraux shook his head.  
  
Softly, Blieraux took out his spear - examining it quietly. “I am from one world which has died. _Ivalice_. Are you…?”  
  
Theodora went quiet. No, it wasn’t time, yet. “…A time will come where it comes to light.” Blieraux, of course, took this as a yes - as he should. Before he could ask more, the unmistakable sound of Haurchefants’ enthusiasm seemed to shake the entire room.  
  
“Then let us seek Lady Ysayle, to aid our quest!”

* * *

The group of four was really a queer one. A Miqo’te, an armoured Scholar, some form of Esper (whatever that was), and an Ascian. On the other hand, Haurchefant seemed to be able to navigate these tunnels so very easily, dispelling illusions with a wave of his hand. Instead of looking where they stepped, Theodora seemed rather too focused on him.  
  
“…Haurchefant Fortemps,” Theodora said, their voice still booming inside their helm.  
  
Looking back for a moment, Haurchefant paused - before smiling at their scholar. “Yes, friend?” Even as he moved forward, Haurchefant… well, it was still confusing for the group around him. Was he friend or foe? Even if he said he had run from Elidibus, he was still…  
  
Theodora seemed too calm. “You fled your darkness - do you ever consider returning?”  
  
It was a question that Haurchefant had considered for a while, as well. Casually shrugging, however, Haurchefant beamed at Theodora. “Why, if I did? I’d not have as many wonderful and splendid people caring for me.” That, really, was as simple as it was. Sure, Haurchefant had considered returning to the Ascian once or twice, but his life was here now.  
  
The answer seemed to please Theodora, as they went quiet once more, steps heavy. Haurchefant, though, continued. “Sometimes, there may be advantages to being the Angel of Death. I’d not need to return to—”  
  
“—Angel of Death,” Rhel interrupted, almost glaring at Haurchefant.  
  
“Emet-selch is… the Angel of Death, guide to those who has fallen. Along with Zalera, I was to judge souls who moved on to the next life. However,” Haurchefant said as he felt Rhel beginning to dust his hand off a little, “that isn’t what’s needed.”  
  
The sun was beginning to set, and the group seemed to walk closer to Blieraux - Belias. “In this land of Eorzea, those services are not needed - for the Lifestream exists. Us Ascian exist beyond just Eorzea - Rhel, it’s really okay. Why do you look at me so?” The look Rhel was giving, well… it was a mix of her usual shocked state, but a softness and sadness had entered that gaze. It made Haurchefant a little uncomfortable, for once in his own life.  
  
“…Still trying to believe you’re alive and well,” Rhel admitted, gripping to him - still moving to groom him. “Did you really watch us after— that?”  
  
Smiling, Haurchefant… understood. “That I did - how could I not? I… was considering returning, but I’d not want to give you a heart attack. Though I did appear once you needed help with poor Estinien.”  
  
Right, Nidhogg. This all lead back to Nidhogg. Steps slowing, it was Blieraux who brought up a curious point. “…Have any of us located the Eyes?” Those damned orbs were always hard to find. Haurchefant frowned.  
  
“Estinien still had one stolen, the last I knew. And the other would be with Thordan— do you think Aymeric is handling this well, by any chance?” Of course, Haurchefant couldn’t stay on one thought for long, bouncing along ever so slightly. It was a good question.  
  
And one Rhel sighed at. “Haurchefant, love, focus,” she said, as they seemed to stop near to a frozen wall. Working together, the group used their skills to melt it…  
  
…and they found themselves in the Akh Afah Amphitheatre, heretics surrounding their queen. Their Lady Iceheart, giving her gifts of Crystal and Unicorn. Mostly knights this time - armour cracked and frozen, a soft red staining their visible flesh. Haurchefant gestured for the others to stay back - though, really, he knew they wouldn’t. His mask reappearing, Haurchefant looked the part of Ascian.  
  
“…From myth and legends, the story of Shiva has touched many, has it not? A story of _love_ overcoming _war_ ,” Haurchefant said, so very softly. His tone had shifted to one more befitting an Ascian, trying so very hard to hide his cheerfulness. His friendliness. For an Ascian wasn’t personal when speaking with… well, clients. “But even those who seek answers can have their vision clouded by lies.”  
  
At Haurchefants’ words, Ysayle turned elegantly, her coat slightly blowing behind her. “…You’re back,” she stated, placing a hand to one of the unicorn which was to be sacrificed. Her gaze barely shifting, she noticed the others - and could hear the hissing from under Theodoras’ armour. Ysayle frowned, biting her lip the smallest bit. “What do you want, Paragon?” As Ysayle asked, though, she drew her own staff - self-defense.  
  
Haurchefant shook his head, letting his hood slightly drop - knowing that she’d not be able to pin him as a Fortemps. Perhaps as an Ishgardian, but that was okay. Ascian stole bodies, that’s just what they did. “I’ve decided to show you the truth, Lady Iceheart. At first, I thought it unfitting - using _visions_ to guide our future is not something I’d do.” But, looking back to the group - the Esper, the strange armoured Scholar, and his love, Rhel - Haurchefant nodded, confident in his choice. That same dark aura began to surround the arena - the heretics gathered beginning to cough and gag. (Not everybody who held memories could handle them being returned in this manner… especially so close to their deaths.) “It was easy for me to decide this path, to perhaps end the suffering of both Dravanian and Ishgardian sooner. At least, from their war - the problems of Ishgard cannot be solved just because their beasts have fallen.”  
  
As the fog grew, Ysayle collapsed to the ice - Haurchefant dashing to grab her. It was oddly enough Theodora who got there in time, though - picking up the Duskwight and cradling her gently. Looking to Haurchefant, Theodora sighed. “I have experience,” they explained.  
  
But, still. Rhel stood on her toes to look at Ysayle, Theodora kneeling down a little. The hissing grew a little louder, and, well… Theodora frowned, placing Ysayle gently down on the ground, before going for their helmet. The group deserved to know.  
  
This was the first time any of them had seen Theodora without their helmet - and as it came off, the first thing that they noticed was that they were… still very androgynous. Silver-blue hair framed a thick jaw, and soft - haunted - silver-blue eyes, mostly shadowed by their thick forehead. Even behind those haunted eyes, Theodora seemed to hold a… sort of scary gaze, one which seemed suited to a commander or emperor.  
  
The second thing the group noticed was the snake-like dragon head, seeming to wrap around their neck. If the group could spy down their armour, they would be able to see the dragon seemed to be fused into their flesh, tattoo-like scales marking where it faded into their body. It was… curious, to say the very least. But it was what had been hissing - moving to sniff at Ysayle for a moment.  
  
It was Rhel who asked the obvious. “…What.” Really, it was more of a statement then a question, but Theodora understood it well.  
  
But… Theodora didn’t want to answer it, slightly looking away. “I was cursed,” they said, very distantly. Perhaps they could give a better answer later… but for now, Theodora didn’t think the answer could be told more then once. No, this would take not only words, but drinks. Giving a little bit of an apologetic gaze, Theodora looked back to Ysayle - who was now trembling with memories returning - still not awake, still trapped within those dreams of ice.  
  
Thankfully, Rhel knew that look. Yes, she’d accept this - for now. Theodora was a fellow mage, there could be many things which caused… fusion with a dragon, in this manner. There was no taint from Theodora, though. At least for now, Rhel could breathe a little easier, knowing it wasn’t the Void.  
  
For a soft moment, things felt fine. And then Ysayle let out a scream, jerking up - a silent scream, only heard though the shaking ice. Shivers of Shiva seemed to surge though the shocked Elezen, until she looked to the group around her. The second head of Theodora didn’t seem to throw her off, as she gripped her hands into fists. Meekly, she finally found her voice - a coughing whisper. “…My plan to weaken their wards— _brought that much suffering_? Without harming those at the top…” Ysayle whispered.  
  
Softly nodding, Haurchefant sat next to her, trying so very hard to remain looking respectful as an Ascian. Theodora kneeled quietly, and Rhel watched alongside Blieraux - the heretics around them already having expired. Bodies seeming to dissolve into a fog. “…Their lives spent, pulled forth though magic… their very body turns to more magical power,” Blieraux stated.  
  
Rhel shook her own head, looking to Blieraux - having to crane her neck up. “That usually happens when there’s a buildup of power - I haven’t heard of it happening to tempered.” Usually, tempered bodies needed to be disposed of - one of the sadder parts of being a Warrior of Light.  
  
Blieraux sighed. “Those tempered by the false whispers of Shiva would not falter as quickly - for they would be seen as heretic. Heretic scared with white marks, and slowly turning to ice…”  
  
Those who were tempered, they turned into monsters - not quite Spoken, not quite mindless beast. Would all who’d fallen to that state turn to this fog when they died? Blieraux continued, looking at the now chatting Haurchefant and Ysayle - discussing their future so very quietly. “But I do not judge them.”  
  
The soft look on his face made Rhel tilt her head even more. “How do?” she asked.  
  
“…Desperation would turn even the most noble man fall to the gentle words of a savior. You recall the… outburst of a little earlier?” Blieraux asked - not waiting for a reply. “Lady Ultima charmed me, once I had been abandoned by those who loved me. Her desires were twisted, but my heart had closed.”  
  
…Huh. That story - and the name Ultima - sounded familiar. At least, it had been heard in a song or two…? Rhel would need to consult the Scions and her books, come their return. Alongside all the other work she had to do. Haurchefant then called to the group, beaming.  
  
“Me and Lady Iceheart have decided - there shall be no more heretic raids on Ishgard from her group. No, instead, as soon as there is an opportunity—”  
  
“—I wish to meet with Hraesvelgr, to seek a way to end this before there is more suffering,” Ysayle finished, a bitterness in her tongue. Really, she remembered last time. False deity, summoned by her own will. But perhaps if Hraesvelgr recalled last time, they could reach out and stop not only Nidhogg, but the Archbishop. Hope was all that they could hold onto. “But I will require the aid of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn— that was the name of your organization, was it not? The path is dangerous, and…”  
  
“…There are other things us Scions must do first. Like secure a way into Ishgard, and prove yourselves - right?” Haurchefant finished for her this time, beaming at the group. Clearly, this plan was half-baked, but… they had time.  
  
Theodora moved to stand, looking around at the clearing arena. “Our goal,” they said, as they placed their helm on, “was to secure Haurchefant Fortemps and discover what we could. This was a success - and, thus, we can return.”  
  
Looking to the group - to Blieraux and Rhel, to Haurchefant and Ysayle - Theodora nodded again. “We can set out and return to the warmth of Mor Dhona.”  
  
A soft power seeming to emanate from Theodora, it seemed to take a moment for the group to teleport away… vanishing from below the nose of any Ishgardian who might try and follow them. Sheltering heretics, after all, was the sign of being a heretic. Ysayle lingered behind, however, so she could prepare for her own trip - she would make contact with the Scions later...


	13. Chapter 13

"Where," Velas'a asked, ears pressed back, "would we be able to enter these... Coils of Bahamut?"  
  
Urianger looked from Velas'a, to the rest of the group. Bolormaa remained by Thancred, while Alphinaud and K'pandolu seemed to be ready to move forward. They'd gone to the Ceruleam Processing Plant, quietly resting by the Aetheryte. Urianger, for his part, was thinking the worst. If Alisaie was truly fighting those coils and horrors by herself-- well, he would send these people to fight the very heart of Bahamut.  
  
Urianger looked back, however, to Velas’a. “If it is as it was - it shall be due north.” Urianger remembered much - even if memories from after the Warriors of Light returned from Azys Lla were far more faded then others. Beginning to walk weakly, the group walked together. Bolormaa held their Aetheryte Shard tightly - it had been tuned like Urianger remembered. The numbers, however, weren’t as ingrained as the Elezen hoped. If he had tuned it wrong, well… hopefully, these Warriors and Thancred would not be too far lost.  
  
His footsteps stopping, Urianger nodded to the rest - to the ones who were to fight. “Here,” Urianger stated so very easily - his voice no longer pained by the rash-like crystal on his neck. Bolormaa nodded to him, placing down the Aetheryte Shard at his feet. It didn’t seem to take much time for Urianger to use magic to activate it…  
  
A little too little time for Thancreds’ liking. Now, he hadn’t been here last time, but him and Moenbryda both had thought Urianger was being shadier then normal. As a soft crackle seemed to go down Uriangers’ crystal, from his hands to his neck and legs, Thancred stepped forward. “And this will send them down there, then? Somebody’ll need to stay behind,” he said - heavily implying he knew who it’d be. Urianger nodded.  
  
“One must remain, to keep the energy flowing - else those who go to slay the Dreadwyrm would remain trapped in the Heart of Dalamud, stranded alone forevermore.”  
  
There was a long pause from the group, before Velas’a stood next to the Shard. “Um, if I may? You’re… fighters. I’m not, really. B-besides,” he said, fidgeting. “I’m not officially a Scion. If anything— I could pass for an imperial patrolling here.”  
  
Honestly, Velas’a wanted to see the remains of Dalamud - he was as much a fan of ancient Allag as Nero, if not more subdued. To see what ended them and nearly ended him… perhaps it would have put him at peace. The group, however, that he could see… well, they were more experienced. As Velas’a trembled, however, K’pandolu rushed to his side.  
  
Sure, she wasn’t a Summoner like him. On the other hand, she knew that Velas’a was… trying. “We’ll both stay up here. Alisaie’ll need some familiar faces, right?” she said - still having no idea that this was the plan of Thancred. Or perhaps she did - who knew? Urianger looked between the two Warriors of Light - before shaking his head, putting a hand to Velas’a.  
  
“Only one must linger, Velasquez. If you are sure…” he said, looking between Velas’a and K’pandolu, “then I shall… go with Alphinaud, Bolormaa, and Thancred.” Carefully, Velas’a nodded - sitting at the crystal, and laying his hands on it. His glamour - unlike his younger brothers’ - didn’t flicker, even when exposed to such strength.  
  
K’pandolu bounced slightly, as she looked to the group. “Let’s do this!” Her confidence in the group seemed to permeate it - Bolormaa preparing her blade, and Thancred nodding firmly. Placing their own hands to the crystal, it was but a moment until the five vanished into the Coils…

* * *

The first thing that any of the five could sense when they finished teleporting was that there was a painful scent in the air. A mix of soot and blood, and the telltale scent of Aether. Whatever had been happening here, it’d been a long battle. The arena was bathed in an unnatural blue, a sign of Allag, in many circles and line-like wires. Crystalized dragon blood covered much of the arena, and a half-formed Bahamut lay there - pinned under said blood, scarred heavily from axe wounds - though the weapon was nowhere to be seen.  
  
The first question to flash though the mind of Alphinaud was why wasn’t Bahamut dead yet? If it was in such a state… it was just prolonging the suffering of the Primal. That is, until he stepped forward, and felt the very trembles of the beast. The crystal tethered it, but Bahamut was still clearly ready to fight - eyes seeming to pierce right though Alphinaud.  
  
“Ware,” Urianger said, as he summoned his Carbuncle. Thancred ripped his gloves off - while he could use his daggers, his claws were clearly better for this. And K’pandolu stood ready to charge Bahamut. Bolormaa, however, began to carefully walk towards Bahamut…  
  
…ready to provoke it. Her fear masked, Bolormaa held her bright blade upwards. “Bahamut, the Dreadwyrm. Your anger tried to destroy Eorzea - but the land flourishes. You’ll fade into being forgotten… just like all before you,” she stated - her blade glowing, before slashing the trapped head, cleanly leaving a new scar.  
  
…Well, the head which was trapped until a moment ago, the provoke and pain making Bahamut break free. Wings ripped, the Dreadwyrm let out a roar. There was no language in the roar, otherwise it could be understood - only an anger (or so they thought).  
  
In a moment, the group began to strike at Bahamut. Thancred pierced its’ flesh with his talons, moving to kick off his feet. More claws could aid. As dual Carbuncle rushed forward - one of them shimmering Amber, the other seeming to be cloaked in a purple aura - Alphinaud and Urianger began to set off poisoned spells to weaken Bahamut. K’pandolu rushed in, giving the foe a taste of her Dragon Kick.  
  
Kicking over and over, though, Bahamut seemed to not be fighting back. Sure, the ground beneath them shook as the beast shifted, but… there were no flares, no divebombs from allies. The dragon didn’t even seem to be roaring too much - more whining. Was it truly weakened, or…  
  
…something was wrong, as Alphinaud dismissed his Carbuncle, falling to his knees. And then the ground, as another earthquake shook the arena. “Alisaie isn’t _here_.” As Alphinaud spoke, he began to try and summon again - a different Carbuncle. But his book fell to the ground, only stopped by Uriangers’ foot. It was concerning, but— they had to stop Bahamut.  
  
Thancred, though, felt a pang of regret, as he noted Bolormaa had also stopped fighting. Well, she was still holding her shield up and ready, but it wasn’t as aggressive. Soon, though, he realised why - for there was another scent in the room, coming from Bahamut.  
  
That was not the blood of a dragon he could smell from it.  
  
Removing his talons - all four of them - from the Dreadwyrm, it collapsed again - already soundly beaten. And yet, it remained summoned. Was it summoned? Trying to stand, the Dreadwyrm remained on the ground - simply raising by its’ tiny arms. Trying to bite, trying to whip its’ tail - whatever had happened here, the Dreadwyrm was unable to continue.  
  
“…Do we… take it out?” K’pandolu asked, her hands and feet finally returning to the ground. Before, of course, one went to gently touch the scales of the… well, when Bahamut looked like this, it almost looked pathetic. Or even… friendly? No, that didn’t sound right. “Did we win?”  
  
Thancred looked to Bahamut, then to Urianger and Alphinaud - Alphinaud holding his grimoire close. “If any of us know what’s going on, it’s you two. Well?”  
  
Urianger looked to Alphinaud. Alphinaud looked to Urianger. Eventually, it was Alphinaud who spoke up. “…Nothing like this happened before. But this is a dead end - Alisaie isn’t here.”  
  
“Is she not?” Urianger then stated, beginning to limp towards the Dreadwyrm. “We’ve not explored this realm enough. No Phoenix, nor tempered Garlean - nor even enchained lover - have been seen.” Urianger had a point. They’d gone straight to the finale of the battles, and hadn’t looked at the damage. “I propose—”  
  
“We’re not splitting up,” K’pandolu stated. “Even _I’ve_ read enough books to know that’s a bad idea.”  
  
Damn. Urianger had something he wanted to try alone - he had to think of another way to send them away. Especially Thancred - who had moved to the head of the Dreadwyrm, putting one of his hands to it. The most curious thing to Thancred was that the beast seemed to relax at the touch.  
  
Before Thancred realised - looking to K’pandolu - that he had the Echo. That’s what he’d been told, wasn’t it? Not just told, but shown. And so did Bolormaa - perhaps, with the Dreadwyrm this calm, they could try talking to it! “I have my own idea,” he stated, his head feathers seeming to poof up a little.  
  
“We’re listening,” Alphinaud said, as he looked almost optimistic. As the group bundled together - a little away from the injured and near-dead dragon - Thancred began to lay out his plan…

* * *

The first to step in front of the resting Bahamut was K’pandolu - holding ointment. Her voice quiet, she offered out some of the food they’d packed before-hand. “Here - you could use this,” she said - hoping the dragon hadn’t quite noticed how she’d been kicking it. She was the least visible of them, even in warm yellow clothes. A long pause followed her words, before Bahamut opened their mouth - taking the food so very greedily. As Bahamut slowly chewed - far slower then something of its’ size should take - the monk Miqo’te jumped onto its’ head. Quickly, she began to rub in Potion.  
  
As soon as the slight sting of the Potion hit the dragon, Bahamut let out a roar - but one different then before. It… almost sounded feminine. No matter - Thancred and Alphinaud held the dragons’ head still, as the rest of the curative gunge was rubbed in. Not just to the mark Bolormaa left, but to the other painful deep marks left on the beast. None of them looked like they had lingered for longer then a few moons.  
  
Which, really, was how long Alisaie had been missing. Either she’d left these, or something else had when the Coils opened, when Bahamut roared out a challenge. There was another option, but it was out of the minds of many of those here.  
  
Once the potion dried, Bahamut seemed to calm again - and that’s when K’pandolu began to stroke their scales. “You’re not going to hurt us?” she mused - not expecting a reply.  
  
But a deep grumble seemed to pierce their souls, with a meaning implied. They would not fight back. It wasn’t quite Dragonspeak, but it also wasn’t language - a softness not expected.  
  
Now this was a bit of a struggle. What should they do now - now Bahamut was… tamed. Still, really, it would still drain Aether. It was Urianger who raised his book again, and the Dreadwyrm snapped to look at him. He didn’t strike, however - simply walking forward. “Dreadwyrm Bahamut, spawn of Dalamud. You are not yourself,” Urianger stated, getting closer and closer. The pained breaths of the dragon felt hot against him, and not only that - it softly whined, as he placed his book to their head.  
  
Thancred then spoke up - using some of his siren-esque powers, for once. The ability to command. Now, Thancred didn’t like using this, it usually slipped too close to tempering for his liking. It’d be fine, though. “Could you try explaining what’s going on?”  
  
Hah. Letting the Dreadwyrm explain. This really was a silly situation. At least, that’s what he thought - until that same wordless voice entered their heads.  
  
… _Trapped_. _Attacked_. _Not Bahamut_ — Not Bahamut?  
  
Thancred put his talon to its snout. “…Did Bahamut trap you, then?” The way the Dreadwyrm shifted - all of them could tell it was a nod. Oh, Twelve… it was Alphinaud who realised what happened first, dropping his grimore and running to hold the beast.  
  
“ _Alisaie?!_ Alisaie— is that you?!”  
  
Silence echoed for a moment, as the large beast nodded - and gently licked at Alphinaud. Without thinking, Alphinaud began to channel more curative magic - draining more aether from the hidden Eye. A crackle of energy seemed to leave Alphinaud as the spells hit Alisaie, tracing patterns around the creature which was… well.  
  
K’pandolu looked to Urianger. “So, uh… how’s this possible?”  
  
Urianger frowned, biting his lip. “…Do you recall the Warriors of D— no. You’ve not had memories restored,” he said, looking to Thancred with an apologetic look. All those who would remember it would be so very upset. Before he could move to restore her memories, however, Bolormaa walked over between them.  
  
“…The Warriors of Darkness were Spoken from another shard - the First. Their world was flooded by Light, and thus, they forsake their bodies. They…” Bolormaa put her blade away, even as she could feel the gaze of all the other - from Alisaie and Alphinaud, to the approaching footsteps of Thancred. “They gave their bodies, so that they could travel to our world, the Source - the closest to Hydaelyn. Though the false words of Ascian, they thought… they could save their world by giving their all.  
  
And yet, even then, they could not. They could only save their world by appealing to the Gods face to face… but that is not what you referenced, was it, Urianger?”  
  
It wasn’t just Urianger who seemed suddenly uncomfortable. No, not just because of everything else around them. But… Bolormaa… how did she know this? She was a wildcard - Thancred hadn’t told the others what he’d learned about her, except for Urianger. (And Urianger still felt so very guilty about what he’d done in that past.) As she paused, though, Thancred suddenly hugged Bolormaa, giving her a little kiss on the cheek.  
  
Nodding, Thancred then looked to Urianger as well. “…The ability to _transcend bodies_ ,” Urianger said as he tried not to smile at the softness of Thancred and Bolormaa, “couldst beest did hold by all of us, for our Echo hast taken root. If it be true ones’ spirit wast stronger then the one who is't wast meant to exist within that body, they couldst taketh control of the body, destroying the spirit within.” Pondering this for a moment, Urianger spoke again - his voice sounding a little shaky. “However, it would taketh one stronger then most Paragon...”  
  
After all, if one could be consumed easier, Thancred could have been destroyed - and Thancred seemed to note this, softly frowning. Alphinaud began to pet his sister, his body feeling suddenly weak.  
  
“Alphinaud,” Urianger said, approaching him. “I have an idea to restore Alisaie. I’d not allow my Lady to remain suffering as the Dreadwyrm.”  
  
As the two arcanist began to discuss their own plan, Thancred beckoned for K’pandolu - and kept holding Bolormaa, who seemed to gaze at Urianger with a suspicious look. “…This isn’t what any of us planned, but—”  
  
“—I actually remember the Warriors of Darkness,” K’pandolu said. “I— remembered them before we left, but I thought it was weird.” Really, she’d remembered around the time Nero had spoken to them with such a rude tone of voice. “Does anybody here still have memories issues?”  
  
While Thancred shook his head, Bolormaa nodded. “I… think I do? Um, you see…”  
  
“She has some of Minfilia inside her,” Thancred explained, as Bolormaa went near-silent. “But…” But what? Thancred cared for Bolormaa differently. Not like he did before. Sure, he loved her as a brother would, but… she wasn’t Minfilia.  
  
Sighing, Thancred slowly tried to release Bolormaa, but instead she placed her hands to his. “But she wishes to discover why she exists - and I promised to help her.” Yes. That’s what Thancred had to do - perhaps it would put him at peace with everything. Really, Thancred had said he was at rest before-hand, but… not really? Her life was cut short.  
  
K’pandolu nodded. “Then— we’ll do it together. You don’t need to keep all of this to yourself, Bolormaa - or you, Thancred!” As the cheerful Miqo’te cheered a little, though, Urianger then turned back to them - clearing his throat.  
  
A confidence seemed to emanate from Urianger, as he spoke. “Alphinaud and I shall now be casting a spell - one created for a much different need. In times of old, Sharlayan scholars sometimes desired a different form—”  
  
“—in other words, it’s a _Polymorph_ spell,” Alphinaud finished - trying to look proud. Fantasia were a controlled version of Polymorph - the base spell was often more violent and unpredictable. With these two, however, they’d scribbled down a version of it which should at least create a form which didn’t need to consume aether. Usually, this couldn’t be done on a Primal - but usually, a Primal didn’t have the spirit of an Elezen within them.  
  
…If this was a different time, perhaps they would consider if this could be done to Shiva. But there were others who were in Coethas, who may as well run into her. None of them knew.  
  
“For this spell, we’ll need… as few people around as possible,” Alphinaud said, giving an apologetic look to the three others. “Otherwise, the magic might affect more then just Alisaie.”  
  
Thancred looked to his talons… the glamoured ones, which Urianger had helped with - even letting him keep them able to revert - and nodded. “I know.” Finally releasing Bolormaa to stroll over to Alphinaud, he then whispered to the Elezen. “Be careful. I’m not sure, but Urianger’s been… wrong, ever since Moenbryda came to the Scions.”  
  
Even if Thancred hadn’t been on edge due to everything in the previous timeline, Alphinaud understood. Between running the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and slowly remembering his past and future (?), Alphinaud had noticed the distance Urianger had been keeping. Softly, he gave Thancred a peck on the cheek without thinking - the loud laughter of the Dreadwyrm being the only reason he realised he did it.  
  
“ _Alisaie_!”  
  
As the other three left, it was simply Alphinaud and Urianger standing before Alisaie, the blue pulsing of the arena illuminating just how many injuries the Dreadwyrm carried. The real reason Urianger wanted the others gone, though… was because he could sense it, with his Ascian senses. The Eye of Nidhogg, hidden with Alphinaud. With that power, it was unpredictable what spell would result. Hopefully, however, Alisaie would be back - and they could handle however she returned, as long as she wasn’t dead. The bright blue flash of the others’ teleport signaled to both Elezen… it was time.  
  
Cautiously, the two began to trace markings onto the Dreadwyrm - their quills glowing with arcane magic. No, it wasn’t regular arcane magic - it was the power of an Ascian and of Nidhogg. Things both of them weren’t going to question, as the purple-blue marks remained visible. Quiet discussion was held between both of them - mostly if they’d made the proper marks - until they began to connect, mixing.  
  
As soon as the marks were finished, Alphinaud looked back to Urianger, biting his lower lip. Magic flicked up and down his arms, but that didn’t matter for now. “…Now, Urianger,” Alphinaud whispered. After all, Alphinaud didn’t know the spell - and he wondered, deep inside, how Urianger knew it.  
  
Urianger called it out - crystal on his body crackling and seeming to split open, if only for a second or two. Alisaie seemed to turn pure white, the light seeming to blind both of the Elezen who were trying to maintain this power.  
  
Once it faded, Alphinaud ran forward, without looking at how it’d worked. If it’d worked. The large form of Bahamut was gone… but Alisaie wasn’t how she should be. No, instead, there was a lizard-like creature there - though they looked bipedal, they also looked like a dragon. Whatever magic they’d used on Alisaie hadn’t worked fully… but she was there, and Alphinaud wrapped his arm around her new, thicker body. Purple scales covered Alisaies' new body, except for the flesh-coloured belly - almost seeming like her former flesh. The scales had a softness to them which didn’t gel with the body of Bahamut.  
  
Frills seemed to surround her face, with two longer horns poking out the back - a lot like Bahamut had. But her harsh blue eyes were clearly Elezen. From her back, small wings poked out - large enough to fly with, but still rather new. Shakily, Alisaie began to stand - still the same height as Alphinaud, even if she now stood almost like a cat, or a kangaroo. Alphinaud hung off of her, getting to his own feet shakily. A soft whimper came from him, as he gave her a little kiss on the… cheek? Yes, the cheek. “Alisaie— what happened?”  
  
Alisaie shook her head a little, shaking Alphinaud away - before noticing Urianger had removed his cloak, leaving his black shirt on. “…For my lady. If you fold your wings against your back, it should cover you slightly.”  
  
Gratefully, Alisaie slipped it on, giving a little grunt of a nod. “Can we get out of here first? I’ve been stuck here for over a moon.”

* * *

As the three left, Thancred rushed over first - followed by the two Echo-bearers. Before any of them could talk, Urianger raised a hand. “The polymorph spell succeeded as well as it could, in the situation. The lady in front of you is our dear Alisaie—”  
  
Urianger felt Alisaies’ clawed hand placed against him, as she stood in front of him - looking up at Thancred. Her snout was short, but even with it, Thancred could see that big frown from her. “I— Bahamut and I were trapped battling. Grandfather broke free of his tempering before fading, and gave me his blessing - so I didn’t fall in battle. But then— then I felt myself falling. I thought it was over - but I woke up as Bahamut.  
  
I’d— I was still injured from the battle. I lost track of— it was a while, before you came.”  
  
As Alisaie rambled a little - mostly to get it off her chest - Bolormaa approached from behind, to put a hand carefully to her. Turning, Alisaie looked at the Au Ra - their eyes meeting - before letting her. “…I’d imagine you were tired,” Bolormaa stated, looking back to the group.  
  
Thancred gave a firm nod. “We’ll return to the Rising Stones. There, she can rest - and then— Alphinaud, Urianger? Can you two alter the spell used on her?” The two Elezen nodded, and so, the group began to walk off… ready to figure out what to do now.


	14. Chapter 14

Nero tol Scaeva could not stay still, even as he was being tended to. Laying down so his back was nice and open, two Miqo’te stood over him - Y’shtola and G’raha. Sure, Y’shtola wasn’t a mechanic and G’raha wasn’t a healer (or an engineer, for that matter) - but the two were, really, the best who could calm the automation down.  
  
As Nero read, he softly groaned - G’raha rubbing a hand down the redness melted into his back. “It was an Allagan blade which did this - one crafted by Amon. But look - it didn’t cut into any of his machinery.” G’raha was putting a finger in, curious - even if, you know. No parts seemed to be running, the ooze wrapped around a strange cube of a core.  
  
Y’shtola let out a soft hm, tail swishing. The pulses from the box beat heavily, in a pattern she couldn’t recognise from anything. But that made sense - the box was Allagan, as was the body. But those lumps on his body… hm. Where he’d been cut open, where the red of his armour had merged into his flesh, large bumps had begun to form. Grabbing her staff, Y’shtola put it to one - channeling a weak Water spell.  
  
“What was that for?!” Nero asked, trying not to scream out in pain. It did hurt, though, and Y’shtola gave a cat-like smirk to herself.  
  
“That,” Y’shtola said, “was seeing if those were simply robotic injuries, or if…” If what? Y’shtola paused, looking from G’raha to Nero. “They remind me of something I’ve seen once before.”  
  
Nero raised an eyebrow, and G’raha tilted his head. Y’shtola continued, as she used Cure on Nero. “It’s something growing inside him - for that other case, it was wings on his arms.” Usually, she’d mention it was Thancred, but… really, Y’shtola didn’t see the need for that. “It hurt him - but it didn’t come from an injury.”  
  
G’raha crossed his arms, looking between them. Nero had gone back to reading, looking rather frustrated - damnit. Damnit damnit damnit. Something was growing inside him and it hurt and it was painful. And now - huh. Looking to his book, Nero then began to read the translated passage out loud.  
  
“In order to slay the Weapon, and stop their Heart, a Blade made of Allagan technology was crafted by the grand Amon. To demonstrate it, Amon went to strike the Children of Omega—”  
  
…Huh. Nero stopped. “Children of Omega?” he asked, looking to G’raha. “Come up in your research?” he asked. The word for Child, after all, had quite a few different translations in Allagan. It could mean slave, it could mean puppet, it could even mean virgin. In this situation, however, Nero didn’t think it meant virgin. From what he knew of Omega Weapon, it wouldn’t want virgin sacrifices. And Amon wouldn’t end them - would he?  
  
G’raha peeked over at the book - Nero casually pointing to the sentence. Narrowing his eyes a little, the Miqo’te began to wag his tail a little in concentration, as Y’shtola continued to examine the injuries. “…Well, it’s still vague. I’d imagine that it’d be slavery - Omega’s a machine, and they can’t have kids, now can they?”  
  
Nero… wasn’t quite sure. But as long as he wasn’t sure, Nero wouldn’t speak up - no sense looking like an idiot here. “Hm. Either way, the blade seems to have the ability to cut though almost any metal - but nothing organic. Allag, however, created metals stronger then it in Alyz Lla… but it couldn’t be mass produced. And so, Amon kept the blade to himself - otherwise, it could be used by the rebellion.”  
  
…Huh. G’raha frowned, as he looked at the text, to Nero. “…That’s a rather fast translation,” he commented, hands moving to touch Neros’ opening again. Smooth.  
  
Nero rolled his eyes. “It’s easy. Late Allagan is easy to read - I can’t believe the Ironworks spends so much time and money on it!” It was always one of his talents.  
  
Putting his hand deeper into Nero - curious as always - G’raha then paused. “…Do you think it’s because of what Amon said? About Alpupus—”  
  
Nero jerking ever so slightly, bumping G’raha, interrupted him. “Shut up. It’s… not because of that. It’s learned.” Sure, Nero knew that wasn’t the truth. No, he knew inside that it was because he was some form of Allagan prototype. But let him have this.  
  
“Right, anyway - keep reading!” G’raha said, tail swishing. Now, Nero usually wouldn’t show off this talent. But… around G’raha, and the other Miqo’te, it was… almost nice. What was this term? Fuck, Nero didn’t know or care.  
  
Before he could continue, though, Y’shtola was moving to get medical supplies. Nero turned to her. “And now what? Are you scared?”  
  
“No,” Y’shtola stated, nearly deadpan. “If these lumps continue at this rate, they’ll crack open within the bell.” Which, in itself, is strange. When Thancred had similar… well, he was growing his wings, the ones which fused with his arms. But with him, it took at least a moon for them to grow.  
  
Whatever this automation was growing, it was far too quick. An adaptation? This was a machine, but with biological components - just like Allag would create. As she spoke, though, G’raha had gotten his hand close to the ooze surrounding the cube, beginning to paw at it. Unlike the stuff which moved outside his body, the ooze inside Nero was soft and flowing. Almost dancing to the soft beat. It reacted to G’raha, flowing onto his fingers and gently cooling him.  
  
Pulling his hand away, though, was a little bit more of a struggle. It seemed so very clingy, as Nero continued to read casually. Once G’raha pushed a little harder, though, he got his hand out - dripping with a little bit of the liquid. Within a moment, it seemed to vanish into his flesh.  
  
Softly, Nero began to continue translating in his head, as Y’shtola placed a blanket over his opening, How to do this…? They couldn’t get this room in the Ironworks too messy - it was their only medical bay. There was always… opening the bumps early. It’d be dangerous, but at the same time, it was Nero. Perhaps they’d need to contact Cid, as well - he was an engineer, and could distract Nero more. Unlike most people, Y’shtola doubted she could let Nero sleep though this. In fact, Y’shtola looked to G’raha. “…Get Cid,” she commanded, and G’raha scattered off. While he was gone, Y’shtola sighed - before Nero looked to her.  
  
Nero was frowning, as he talked. “You’re quite different then other Miqo’te,” he stated - his eyes seeming to focus in on her. Where he was staring didn’t quite seem to be… well, Y’shtola couldn’t quite figure it out. It wasn’t her chest, but it was around there.  
  
But her tail flicking, Y’shtola sat on one of the chairs nearby. “…This, from whatever you are?” she asked, her ears pressed back a little. Though her eyes were calm, Y’shtola didn’t like this.  
  
And, of course, Nero was good at seeing even the smallest weaknesses in people. “Yes, from something like me.” A monster. Perhaps only a monster could see what he could - a strange… thing. Not even Nero was quite sure what he was seeing. “If you’re going to betray then, do it quickly - would you?” he added, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure you know this, but I won’t stand for ‘raha to be disappointed.”  
  
…Yes, this was all for G’rahas’ sake. Not his own - Nero didn’t know Y’shtola, except as a Scion who worked with Cid sometimes. Y’shtola shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re on about, Scaeva.”  
  
Before Nero could probe more - before he could question her about what he thought he saw more - Cid opened the door, G’raha behind him. “What is this - a hospital room?” Cid asked, gesturing slightly to the blanket over Nero.  
  
“Hospitals are for Spoken,” Y’shtola said, standing up with a long stretch. “But, I wish to open up the lumps on his back, and thought an engineer should be around. This won’t be as complicated as Alexander - but he’s still a pain.” That was one truth that Y’shtola knew even now, having barely interacted with Nero. Groaning a little, Cid moved to look at the lumps…  
  
…hm. “We’ll need to tie him down,” Cid stated - before letting out a laugh, with Nero suddenly squirming a little.  
  
“And why do you need that, Garlond?!” Nero asked, looking at him.  
  
Cid put a hand to Neros’ head, slowly shaking his own head. “Well, we can’t put you to sleep. And we can’t leave you unrestrained - it might be painful. So you’ll need to be held down somehow, and it’s not like somebody’s going to sit on you.”  
  
Nero groaned, lowering his eyelids. Did Cid need to make it sound so… acceptable, in that tone which made him relax the smallest bit? Well, not relax, but… damnit, Nero didn’t know what it meant for his chest to feel warm and his body to accept whatever the other said - or was doing.  
  
Cid lazily got out metallic chain - stronger then rope, of course, for Nero was heavy and strong - and began to tie his wrists together, under the examination table. Now, usually, this table was used for magitek creation - but wasn’t this similar? As Cid finished with Neros’ arms, he quickly moved towards Neros’ legs. Instead of tying them under the table, Cid simply tied them together - quite firmly.  
  
“…And here I didn’t know you were good at ties, Garlond,” Nero snarked, casually letting Cid tie down his neck. As he did, however, Cid noted that Neros’ neck was glowing a dull blue. Damnit, he’ll look into that later. Finally, Nero was tied down.  
  
Y’shtola approached with a scalpel, placing it to the false skin on Nero - and tried to cut into the metal.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Of course, it was too thick. A moment passed, before G’raha repeated some of what Nero had written earlier. “A blade which could cut though anything made of metal.” While G’raha spoke, he got out the blade he took from Amon. Shakily and carefully, Cid then took it from them.  
  
“Y’shtola - be ready with curatives. G’raha, keep your eyes on Nero.”  
  
…Cid would do this. Cut him open carefully, and let whatever was in there out. Pulling his goggles down, Cid placed the blade to one of the lumps - before slowly tracing down it, hands steady. The fact one of them was made of metal probably helped with that.  
  
Quickly moving to the second one, Cid remained calm as it was split in half as well - nothing seeming to come out, at least for the moment. A calmness… before ooze began to drip out, slowly at first. Nero bit his lip, trying to resist the urge to scream - damnit, this hurt - but Cid stepped forward again, placing his hands to the injuries - and began to push down on them.  
  
Now, normally, this wasn’t a good idea. If Nero wasn’t an automation, Cid wouldn’t be doing this. But, honestly? Having build-up of any liquid inside a machine, even if it flowed elsewhere, was not good news. Barely noticing some of it seeping into his own flesh, Cid only stopped pushing once all the ooze had dripped out, over the off-white blanket.  
  
Once it had begun to flow out at a steady pace, however, Nero screamed - trying to struggle free. The table shuddered, and G’raha rushed to grab Nero - he was there, stay calm! Y’shtola began to cast Medica over and over, spell consuming the room, trying to heal.  
  
Soon, it was over. Nero was silent, Cid slumped over, and G’raha tried to pull away - try not to hold onto Nero. What the crowd could see, however, was quite… amazing.  
  
For you see, the ooze which had left Nero was beginning to turn solid, a deep red coming out of the colourless liquid. As it solidified, it seemed to curve - the blanket coming off of Nero, leaving his bare back exposed. But not for long, as the now-solid shell-like coverings placed themselves over his still-injured back.  
  
The first to speak up was Y’shtola, who tried to brush down her hair - which had stood on end for quite some time. “…Are you all okay?” Y’shtola asked, trying so very hard to hide she was not okay. This kind of mutation was… well, she’d never seen it before.  
  
G’raha looked from Nero, to Cid, to Y’shtola. “I am - but I think this’ll take more study. I’ve heard of adaptation in some Allagan machines, but those ones weren’t usually so…”  
  
“Feisty?” Nero mumbled, so very tired. “I’m one of a kind, ‘raha. But… I’d like more books,” he admitted - before looking to Cid. “And— Garlond, your ties.”  
  
As Cid moved to remove them, he shook his head to himself. Nero… what was going on in that head of his. Addressing the others, Cid tried to ignore the weird throbbing in his non-metallic hand - a throbbing quite unfamiliar, not quite painful but not quite painless. “Until we know the source of this mutation, we need to keep monitoring Nero. I doubt he’ll be able to move properly yet, so he’ll remain in my care.”  
  
…His care. Cid felt his throat close a little, his chest feeling a little heavier. Looking down to Nero - ropes untied, feeling quite light in his flesh hand, Cid continued. “Y’shtola, thank you for your assistance - if the Scions need any more advice, I’ll be around. Since we’ve cleared out the Crystal Tower early - I think we’ll focus on—”  
  
“—your rest,” Y’shtola said, stepping a little closer to Cid. “We can’t guarantee that Alexander won’t return in this timeline.” After all, it was a Primal of Time. Would it recall as she did? Y’shtola closed her eyes again. (Honestly, she kept her eyes closed a lot. Vision was different then seeing though the aether around her - and was overwhelming. Not that she’d complain about it. But it was simply something she was still adjusting to - it was different then before, even without the crystal growing around them. Sometimes, however, when she gazed at Cid - well, his aether seemed wrong. A thing to investigate, perhaps? A Garlean shouldn’t shudder with so much overflowing aether, strength that rivaled even a master of magic like Papalymo, Rhel, or even herself.)  
  
Cid let out a little laugh, looking to the group. “Well, next time you guys have a meeting, at least let me in. We’ll be looking for clues about Omega, as well.”  
  
…That, really, was something that concerned them all. Sadly, the group hadn’t really made much progress - because, really, seeking others had been more important. When they returned, maybe that’d be the next goal…


	15. Chapter 15

The first group to return was the group which had moved to the Coils of Bahamut - the one which had the firmest plan, and the one which had the easiest path back. No imperials were left in the Castrum, and Malboro could easily be taken out. Anybody who dared stared at the dragon-esque Alisaie were told off by Thancred - once again, using his powers as a young siren. As soon as they’d returned - before even informing Tataru or Moenbryda or anybody else left inside the Rising Stones what had happened - the entire group went to sleep, on some of the beds left on the lower floors.  
  
The first to awaken was Urianger, who woke while night still hung over everything. Once again, his body was in pain - but not just from the growth on him. No, Moenbryda was clinging to him, awake and comfortable. “…My dearest Moenbryda…” he mumbled, moving to kiss her on the nose.  
  
However, Moenbryda shifted away a little, forcing his lips onto her mouth. Beaming as she pulled away, the Roegadyn laughed heartily - if not a little quietly. “You didn’t even eat before collapsing. Come on, we can’t have you gettin’ any thinner.” Though Moenbryda sounded like the was joking, both of them knew she was serious.  
  
With a swift movement, Urianger was on his feet, Moenbryda carrying him out of the make-shift bedroom. “What even happened out there?”  
  
Trying not to turn too red, Urianger looked back at the group. “Our dear Alisaie fell a Primal, losing herself in the process. Alphinaud is abusing fell magic, and—”  
  
“—Oh, come on,” Moenbryda said, softly placing Urianger down. He could walk by himself for one, and for two… “I know _you_ use fell magic as well, Urianger.” After he’d left for this quest, Moenbryda had begun to look though his books. There were none detailing powers which could alter time, however - something which almost disappointed her. But stories of powers which could end lives in a moment? The ability to fully control - and possess - all forms of monsters? (And then using their very souls to take that form?) And that didn't even count the spells he'd used when they were younger... just what was Urianger studying - and where’d he get these books?  
  
Shuffling alongside Moenbryda, Urianger kept his look averted from her. “…I have mine own reasons to study those spells, mine own love,” he mumbled, before he softly stopped to hold onto Moenbryda - his feet were so very unsteady, especially after today. “The spells of those lost tomes are not of the same concern as Alphinauds’ source of aether.” Urianger paused, as Moenbryda slammed the door open to the kitchen. There should be something she can get into her thin nerdy Elezen quickly. Continuing as Moenbryda loudly went though the draws, Urianger couldn’t help but smile at her. “It is a power familiar, like… the cursed Eye of Nidhogg, an artifact fueled by pure hatred.”  
  
As Moenbryda grabbed for an apple, she froze. Right. Urianger had written about that in his journal - two damn balls which kept causing more and more chaos, and yet worked a little like Auracite. Could entrap things and made blades of light, and could kill Ascian. “—He’s a moron,” Moenbryda casually said, tossing the apple to Urianger. “Then again, knowing him and our mentor, he’s probably thinking he has it under control. Right?”  
  
Urianger nodded. “…I doubt he knows I’ve figured it out.” Biting into the apple softly, Urianger remained still as Moenbryda bridged the gap between each other. But then, the two of them heard a third voice. It was Thancred.  
  
“…If you’re going to discuss this sort of stuff, try not to make so much noise?”

* * *

Soon, the three had all gotten out some fruit to eat, sitting around a small table which had been dragged into the room quite a while ago. Really, it looked more like it’d been brought in to help somebody small get up to the draws. Thancred had slipped into a light gown - not bothering hiding how beast-like he could be.  
  
“…And, so, that’s what happened. Alisaie won’t temper us, but she also can’t go out in public like this,” Thancred finished, looking rather gloomy.  
  
Moenbryda seemed to be thinking, though. “Don’t we have Sylph with us? Yda and Sasa?” she said - crossing her arms, and beginning to bounce one of her legs. It made a good rhythm. “They’re pretty good at glamours.”  
  
Thancred shook his head, his feathers seeming much more animated then usual. “Glamours aren’t the same as having your own form,” he explained, looking at his hands. His talons. “When I wear gloves, it’s not like… I still have these, and I still have my wings.” His arm-wings. Really, Thancred was more of a glider then a flier - as were all young siren.  
  
“…I guess,” Moenbryda said, shrugging - really, glamours were outside of her wheelhouse, even if she somehow wore clothes usually befitting a bard and covered her own secrets. Really, it was another who focused on glamours and altering forms near her. “Urianger, you think you can adjust the polymorph later?” she asked - taking a bite of her own food.  
  
Urianger wasn’t looking at either of them, looking at his crystal-covered hands. When Moenbryda spoke to him, however, Urianger looked to her - eyes wide. Re-use the spell… hm. “If we had not unleashed the magic of Nidhogg, perhaps,” he stated - before shaking his head. “I fear— it may take time, my dearest love, for Nidhogg was a strong source of magic. If we could use one stronger, it could overwhelm the spell.”  
  
In other words - the polymorph spell still lingered, and it would take something stronger to reverse it, or simply change it. Urianger knew there was one man, at least, who could do a spell like that - but asking Elidibus to clean up after his mess? Really, who’d do that? An Ascian who hoped to fade into nothingness, that’s who. Or, if they could dismiss the power of Nidhogg…  
  
After a moment - Urianger sensing the mood in the room - he then spoke again. “…Alphinaud holds no blame. His desire to save that which he loved, to protect his dearest person, was nothing other then well-meaning. To hold that Eye… that is what we must find out about. Wh— how?” Urianger said, confidence filling his golden eyes once more. They could do this— they would do this.  
  
His confidence was interrupted by a loud yawn. This was a midnight awakening… and Moenbryda knew it. “Let’s get back to bed before we try an’ answer those questions,” she stated, “and get some rest. You guys had a long time, huh - and who knows? We’ve got some other groups to wait for.  
  
Who knows - they might have some answers?”

* * *

Once the other two groups returned - the ones who seeked Ramuh and the ones who seeked Haurchefant - there was one thing clear.  
  
They did not have answers.  
  
Luckily, Haurchefant had slipped back into armour, instead of his Ascian cloak. Bolormaa still eyed him oddly, feeling her blade tremble at the sight of this friendly man. As soon as the group who seeked Ramuh returned, however, a meeting was called.  
  
This time, chairs had been dragged around the largest table Tataru could find. The fact it looked like the table the Heavens’ Ward met around was a little weird, but Tataru tended to get the weirdest things. It was fine - the large table could fit them all around it, nice and comfortably. Even if it seemed to leave quite a bit of confusion of who was going to talk first.  
  
Until the familiar booming voice of Theodora shut everybody up, turning to face them. “Our group brought back Haurchefant Fortemps - and have one lead on assisting alter what has happened. If you may?” they said, looking straight at the Elezen - who was half-dozing, Rhel on his lap.  
  
He had to be the first, didn’t he. “Well, _ah_ \- I wouldn’t say it was a lead, dear friend! But… with your guidance, I hope to slay Nidhogg before he begins his own song.” Of course Haurchefant would refer to the war as a song - the Dragonsong. Humming a little, Haurchefant then nodded. “Lady Ysayle has been talked out of aiding Vishap.”  
  
Without the aid of Iceheart - of Shiva - the Dravanian Horde could not strike the Steps of Judgement. At least, not in the manner they did last time. Haurchefant seemed proud of himself, until Rhel let out a little hm. “And… without that, we save lives.  
  
But…”  
  
But what? The Miqo’te trailed of, but Theodora gravely nodded. “It _may_ cause the deaths of others.” Standing, Theodora moved across the room, next to the Elezen and the Miqo’te - standing between them. “Any change made may save some - but will leave others to rot.”  
  
“Speaking from your experiences?” Blieraux said, looking straight at Theodora. Before the tall armoured person could answer, Blieraux continued. “There is no point hiding it, is there? We’ve brought a Paragon in here, and—”  
  
“Wait, wait!” It was Tataru who interrupted them - she’d just walked in with some treats for the table. “Para— Ascian?! Here?!”  
  
“…If you feel unsafe,” Blieraux said, bowing his head, “then you may leave, little one.” Her legs shaking a little, Tataru placed down the tray of biscuits, before walking out of the room - keeping her eyes on the group as she did. Really, it was… a little disconcerting. But as she left, another tried to shift, to move. Bolormaa put her hand to her hip, where her blade would usually be - but she’d left it back with her armour, her main clothing. Instead of leaving, however, she remained next to Thancred - moving slightly so she could cling to him, while keeping her eyes firmly on Haurchefant.  
  
Frowning, Haurchefant looked to the group. “I’d not call myself the same as any other Paragon - no, I haven’t seen either _Elidibus_ or _Fandaniel_ since I began living as a Fortemps, I must confess.” Feeling the gaze of everybody, Haurchefant continued with a nod to himself. “Ah - Fandaniel is a Lord Commander, in our terms - they answer to Elidibus, but can conduct their own desires - well, they listened to Lady Ultima more, but none of us Ascian have sighted dear Ultima for quite some time, either. It’s surprising they’ve not contacted me - before I took this form, they were quite hands-on.”  
  
For a moment, the room fell quiet - until Urianger nodded, seated on top of Moenbryda. Honestly, he’d wanted his own seat, but they didn’t have enough. “Fandaniel wast mentioned in but one tome that has been examined - Bonecrusher. In it, it was opposite to the Bringer of Order.”  
  
Blieraux let out a harsh laugh, looking straight at Urianger. “And you believe that? The Gods which crafted that so-called Bringer of Order? Cruel things.  
  
…I should know. They crafted me as well.” Pausing, Blieraux then nodded to himself. “If I admitted it to those who came to the snows, I can admit it to you all. Blieraux is a life I chose for myself - my true name is Belias. Esper of Darkness.”  
  
Esper—?! Loudly slamming on the desk, before crawling over it, Sasaxia was soon in the face of the tall Au Ra-seeming man. “Esper— Eidolon— are like Ramuh?!”  
  
Blieraux looked to Rhel, a silent plea for somebody to explain. But instead of her explaining, Papalymo spoke up - his lips trembling with every word. “…When we went to the shroud, we met Ramuh - but it wasn’t the one we knew. He claimed to be from something called the sixth iteration - calling this one the fourteenth.  
  
At one point, he called himself both an Eidolon and an Esper.”  
  
“And liked my weapon from Lightning,” Velas’to added - though nobody seemed to be paying attention to him, attention now on Papalymo.  
  
“…Did you know any Ramuh, Belias?” Blieraux seemed to pause for a moment - before growling, gripping his hands tightly.  
  
“…He is no Esper. An illusion of a man, perhaps. _Yahri_ or _Summon_ , it matters not. But there are Twelve Esper, for the Twelve Scion - the ones you now call Ascian.”  
  
At that, the entire room went quiet - Blieraux kept his mask-covered gaze focused on everybody, small embers beginning to form around it once again. “So quickly you abandon what you cannot understand - Man never changes.”  
  
After a moments’ pause, Blieraux - Belias - turned to leave. Was there a place for him here? They’d accepted a Paragon - no, two. The gaze behind those azure goggles, that Elezen with the tattoo - he was clearly one of those damned beasts, and he was— wait. A soft hand had been placed to him… turning, it was Haurchefant - who’d rushed to hold his hand.  
  
Letting out a confused whine, Blieraux felt Haurchefant holding his hand even tighter. Why…? Haurchefant grinned. “Come now. Don’t sulk off, friend - Man changes a lot! Why, they’re _splendid_ right now - even if quite a few of them aren’t the nicest.”  
  
“Emet-selch,” Blieraux said, lowering his head a little, “you’re too optimistic. Again.” But, at least, Haurchefant lead them back to the table, softly getting the scared Esper to sit - giving him a little kiss on the forehead, before moving back to Rhel. She returned to grooming him, and Haurchefant returned to grinning at her, adding small smooches to her face every time there seemed to be time for affection.  
  
…Oh, right. “You asked about iterations, yes? I can explain! But… it’s a long story. So, perhaps later—”  
  
“—a tale of iterations and stories we doth not knoweth - we wilt learneth as swiftly as possible,” Urianger said - before Moenbryda laughed, right in his ear.  
  
“What he means is we’d like to know now. Right?”  
  
Softly, Haurchefant took a deep breath - looking to the group. But before he could begin, Theodora cleared their throat. “I shall explain.”

* * *

Theodora had moved back to their seat, softly averting their gaze - even under their helm. Remaining standing, their voice boomed - any distaste for this masked in confidence.  
  
“Long ago, a Warrior of Light battled a being known as Chaos. Chaos, using the power of time travel, defeated the Warrior of Light.  
  
In the dying desires of the Warrior of Light,” Theodora said, beginning to pace, “they desired only to stop Chaos and his own cruel desires. This wish was heard by a far-off civilization - which had given their world Crystals to watch over them. One from there - and their starship - came to linger over that star…  
  
…and destroyed it, taking all the spirits it could.”  
  
Giving a dramatic pause - or, at least, what seemed like one to the others, Theodora continued. “That was the first… iteration.” The term still felt foreign to Theodora - no, the term they used was… “What those beings did caught the attention of those in the Interdimentional Rift. Within it, a God came to some who came from another dying world. They made a deal - to gather power, for revenge.  
  
…That,” Theodora said, moving to slowly turn from the group, “is where I came in. As the starship ate worlds, their strongest Warriors were brought into that deal. As battle raged on, we faced allies and enemy both. With our deaths, the God who summoned us grew stronger - to fight their rival. When our flesh perished, we woke again - memories purged.  
  
This was our iteration - Cycles of conflict. Once they were broken, those who survived had a choice. Our homes were destroyed. We could continue to flee, or…”  
  
“…we could continue to aid the worlds which remained,” another voice said, softly and lacking any confidence. Theodora looked - it was Y’shtola. Y’shtola—  
  
Bowing their head, Theodora gave a small grunt. Of course she would remember - softly, they remained looking to Y’shtola, who looked up at the armoured figure. “…I knew your armour was familiar. Did you ever find…?”  
  
“No. Their souls remain slumbering, some of many who cannot wake yet,” they answered - before looking back to the crowd. Grunting slightly, they nodded towards Y’shtola. She was their ally.  
  
“…My entrance into the Cycles - the Conflict - was only temporary, in the previous timeline,” Y’shtola explained. “It was friendlier - instead of fighting for our memories, we battled simply to find a way out, and to become stronger. That… didn’t explain everybody who was there. But that is when I learned of these cycles and iterations.  
  
A war between Shinryu, Omega, and the starship-wielding beast. And we’re nothing but bugs to them,” Y’shtola admitted, crossing her arms - and grumpily swishing her tail. “And believe it or not? The starship which consumes stars looks a lot like a moon.”  
  
After she ended, a soft whimper came from Papalymo, Lyse nuzzling him. Before he could speak up, though, the door opened - Cid, G’raha and Nero were late to the meeting, and tried to quietly enter. Theodora looked at them, glancing at Nero - their gazes meeting for a moment.  
  
“…Hm,” Theodora mused, looking at Papalymo. “I was not in this realm before time was altered, Lalafell,” they said - taking an intimidating step towards him, before Lyse got to her feet.  
  
“Ramuh said that Papalymo didn’t do anything wrong!” Lyse exclaimed, raising her fists to the armoured fiend.  
  
Y’shtola casually tapped her cane to the ground - the two of them stopping straight away. “ _Golbez_ , Yda, stop it.” Of course, the two looked straight to her. “But Yda is right. Papalymo did not do anything wrong, it was Ilberd who desired to summon a Primal…”  
  
A soft cough came from the other side of the table - the thin, sickly-looking Alphinaud seemed to have something to say. A moment later, his voice had grown confident again, masking any illness. “…I won’t be founding the Crystal Braves. Not only that - but without them, Ilberd won’t have any authority or ability to gain that power.”  
  
That, and Alphinaud still held one of the eyes hidden - he’d never give it up. Moenbryda gave him a look - a mix of confusion and hoping that the boy would confess what he had - before looking to the rest of the group. “I dunno, your uniforms for them was cute.”  
  
“…it’s not cute,” Alphinaud insisted, turning a crimson red.  
  
“The only good uniform,” Nero said, wheeling over to the table finally, “was the Garlean one - those Braves were far too blue for my liking.” At his voice, Alphinaud seemed to bristle up - quite a few of them did. “Anyway - what were you saying, Golbez? Y’shtola? Now, I didn’t see Omega for long, but that didn’t seem like a warring beast to me.”  
  
“…The fifth iteration,” Y’shtola said, trying to ignore how much Nero sounded, “is where they both seem to hail from. Omega was made to destroy Shinryu, and travels though the Interdimentional Rift for that purpose.  
  
…It may not be related to our Omega.” Honestly, even if it was, Y’shtola didn’t want to give Nero any ideas. That would truly be a bad idea, if he now wanted to harness Omega to jump between different dying worlds and stars. Before she could add more, though, Theodora— Golbez spoke again.  
  
“…There is one thing which concerns me.”  
  
Everybody looked to Golbez, as they continued. “The one who harms these worlds can jump between these rifts. It reminds me of a _being_ who threatened my world - but it cannot be the same. Not anymore. If I may, I shall require a group who can come with me to… seek that answer.”  
  
Softly, finally speaking up, Bolormaa tried to speak above a whisper. All of this, it sounded familiar, but… “These iterations - do they relate to our Astral and Umbral Era?” Her gaze seemed more pure white, her voice seemed to echo, Bolormaa was not feeling well at all. Golbez shook his head, as Y’shtola stepped a little towards both her and Thancred.  
  
“…To be honest, none of us are quite sure. In that conflict I was in, there were people from different time periods - both claiming their worlds had ended at that time. And, according to reports from others, it happened before. In one case, a son and his father arrived, with his father being from 17 years ago.  
  
It, too, ended at both times.” As she spoke, Y’shtola casually used a Cure II on Bolormaa - she looked like she needed some regen. To go that pale - well, it was unhealthy. Thancred, though, understood. Honestly, he felt the same about Ascian - even if Haurchefant was… well, a friend to the Warriors of Light.  
  
Warily, Bolormaa nodded, flopping into Thancred a little. “…We cannot let our star end. For those who have lost their lives - and for those we can yet save.”  
  
Before she even finished talking, Thancred held her close, so very softly - letting his feathers drape over her, not bothering to hide his winged arms. Bolormaa… she didn’t need to do this. But she did it anyway - and he cared for her. How? It didn’t matter right now. “Right she is. Y’shtola? We’ll need more information about how it relates to Eorzea. And you - Theodo— Golbez. If you know so much, we’ve got quite a few scholars here to help.”  
  
Before he thought he was forgotten, though, Blieraux then heard his name. “Blieraux - we’ll need to learn more about you Esper and your connection to the Paragon.”  
  
A small grumble came from Alphinaud. “I’m meant to be leading the Scion…”  
  
Before, however, the group could continue - Tataru re-entered the room, with quite a meal. “I know it’s scary with an Ascian, but it doesn’t look like you’re fighting, so… what about lunch?”

* * *

A small break was really was all of them needed - and when the group began to talk again, everybody was on the same page. Except for, seemingly, Cid.  
  
“So, if I have all of you right - we have other iterations out there, with other people. These iterations fall because of a moon, and then new ones are made,” Cid said - remaining standing, against the wall, adjusting his magitek arm.  
  
From the other side of the room, Golbez remained standing - giving a harsh nod. That was it… softly, Golbez then sighed. “And yet, none of them remain dead. Not even those who have perished before…” As Golbez spoke, though, a deep fear seemed to enter their voice - only to try their damned best to hide it. Nodding to themselves, Golbez then continued. “I agree with the Siren. We need to continue gathering information,” Golbez stated, before taking a long gaze around at everybody at the table.  
  
Sasaxia had begun to try and climb on their armour - Golbez tried not to get too irritated - before she spoke. “Found shiny rock near Lord Ramuh. Could help?”  
  
As Sasaxia produced the rock, Golbez reached for it - touching it so very gently. Softly looking to Y’shtola, trying not to react too harshly, Golbez nodded. “This is the Esper you spoke of.” Approaching as Golbez flipped the pebble of a stone over and over, Y’shtola picked up Sasaxia and placed her back on the table.  
  
Before taking the stone for herself, curious - examining it for a moment before handing it back to the needy Lalafell on the table. “Another stone which does not store aether,” Y’shtola commented. For once, she’d commented with her eyes open. From next to her, Thancred gave a small nod.  
  
However, Sasaxia held the rock close again. “Sixth Ramuh,” she nodded to herself, returning to her seat. That, at least, was good enough for her - even if everything else was confusing, she could understand that.  
  
Alphinaud then spoke up again, his voice reaching everybody in the room. “Before we can… consider these other iterations, we need to worry about ourselves. Is this threat coming for us?”  
  
It was a question which made both Golbez and Y’shtola, who thought they knew what was going on, take pause - both turned to each other. Quietly whispering to each other for what felt like far too long, Y’shtola shook her head. “Not yet - there’s been no signs of it. There’s… never been a time where it has reversed time.”  
  
“Except,” Golbez said, “for the twelfth iteration. That situation, however, spanned more era then a simple year. In that case, the world went back to a golden age, thought to be lost.” At least, that’s what Golbez had heard. “…An era of airship.”  
  
“Cut the _crap_ ,” Blieraux said. “Ivalice is dead—”  
  
Before Blieraux could shout more, an oddly reverent tone came from Nero - sitting next to the Esper. “Ivalice. Like… the _mythological tales_ of Ivalice? Are you quite serious?” At the nod of the Esper, Nero clasped a hand to him - trying not to fall out of his wheelchair or reveal the weird armour he’d grown. “It’s real, then - the _stories_ of King Delita?!”  
  
Awkwardly, Blieraux looked between Nero and Cid - who moved from the wall to a better vantage point, to the seat Rhel had vacated once she had the lap of Haurchefant to sit on. One Garlean on each side, he let out a little huff. “…Those tales were from a different iteration then the twelfth, yes. The… seventh, if I recall these correctly.  
  
…How do you know of these stories?”  
  
“An old friend of mine was obsessed with the stories of Ivalice,” Cid explained - ah, how he wondered how Jenomis was… handling. If he was handling. “And I’d oft hear the tales as a child. The story of a peasant king.”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Nero added, snorting. “And the irony of it being told to somebody with noble blood never quite hit you, did it, Garlond?” At Cids’ pause and slight frown, Nero assumed Cid didn’t get him - but before he could speak, Blieraux let out a small chuckle.  
  
“Even in this iteration, even played by different actors, Man hasn’t changed. They still believe lies, passed from era to era. I wonder…” Blieraux mused, trailing off at the gaze of the two Garleans. “It exists in this realm. As did other beings - or, they did.” Softly snorting under his mask, Blieraux looked at Golbez once more - trying his best not to look to Haurchefant, who stared back so very curious.  
  
“The Cloud of Darkness.”  
  
…That’s right. Golbez gave a look to Y’shtola, before nodding to themselves. “…Luneth and his kin remain asleep. Those four cannot aid us, even if we could leave and get them.” Of course, Golbez didn’t expect to wake up the Onion Kids - Onion Knights, whatever - just for this. If he couldn’t wake his brother nor Ceodore, that wouldn’t be allowed. Taking a deep breath, Golbez continued. “The Cloud of Darkness existed in both the third iteration, and within the Cycles.”  
  
“So, if I’ve got this right,” Cid said - trying not to think of how bad this could get, “even when we lost Doga and Unei to them, they were in these Cycle.” Golbez nodded, and Cid had to bit his lip to stop a swear - looking to G’raha, who had his ears pressed flat. “Maybe that’s why they weren’t in the Void.”  
  
“…I don’t know why,” G’raha said, looking at Cid, “but that doesn’t sound right, with all the time nonsense.” Cid sighed at the response, letting his head droop. It was still complex, but he had to say his theory. Cid was almost about to slump when a warm hand touched him - Blieraux. Without words, the masked Au Ra gave a small snort and nod. He got it - and Cid couldn’t help but look in awe. Ivalice was real - if only he could contact his old friend now.  
  
Clearing his throat, Alphinaud continued. “If I have it right, that means we have some… parts from these other iterations in our star. Has that happened before?”  
  
Y’shtola strolled over to him, slightly standing behind Golbez. “…Other then Ivalice, no. There have been people who’ve crossed over, but not entire regions.” At least, that’s as much as they knew. A long-standing rumour that the second and the fourth iterations were connected to the same realm were still just rumours - ones that Kain wouldn’t confirm or deny. Honestly, though, Kain wouldn’t answer many questions about himself, because he was Kain. He’d vanished soon after Golbez had joined their side as well, but for all Y’shtola and Golbez knew, it was for reasonable reasons. You know, the whole brainwashing thing that Golbez still couldn’t be forgiven for, even after however long it had been. The rumours that the seventh and the tenth were connected, too, were ones which couldn’t be confirmed - but, this time, because they didn’t seem to share much.  
  
A voice then came from the corner of the room - it was Alisaie, who’d been stuck listening to everybody. She could have taken a seat, but she still looked like some form of lizard. “We need to find out if this threat is coming. And how to stop it.”  
  
Stop it. Huh. Golbez couldn’t help but laugh at the optimism - until Moenbryda spoke up, nodding to Alisaie. “Or, if we can’t find that out - figure out the whole time thing first. One problem at a time, right?” As she finished talking, she gave Urianger a kiss on the cheek - Urianger trying not to turn even redder.  
  
From the other side of the table, Rhel nodded. “We’ve also got to figure out what we’ll do about, well, House Fortemps. If I may? Me, Haurchefant - and Sasaxia - could go and try and sort that out.”  
  
Sasaxia pouted - of course they’d take her - before Alphinaud nodded to them. “I’d like to go to Ishgard as well - I think that there’s quite a bit we could find out there.” That, and Alphinaud wanted to see if he could lead the charge against Nidhogg. Rhel sighed a little - looks like she’d be babysitting two children.  
  
Blieraux gave a small shake of his head - before looking to Rhel once again. “…If I may, I wish to remain with the Garleans - they must learn the truth of Ivalice. But if the Azure Dragoon is needed—”  
  
“—You know,” Cid interupted, giving a little grin. “We do have a commission from the Holy See. How about you use our place as a base, until that nonsense with House Fortemps is over?” Of course, Cid knew what they wanted all of this airship for. A way into Azys Lla - but, damnit, he’d not let them abuse that technology again. From the other side of Blieraux, though, he could feel Nero sneering.  
  
“What a wonderful plan - we sneak in though their contracts… and don’t check up on Omega? I think I’ll be sitting that one out, Cid,” Nero stated - crossing his arms and leaning back - until the judgemental eyes of both Cid and G’raha were on him.  
  
“Do you think he’s forgotten, Cid?” G’raha asked, tail wagging.  
  
“That I’m his boss? I think his memory’s a bit faulty - but we can get that checked and upgraded,” Cid replied, before nodding at Nero. “Until you can walk by yourself, we’re not going down there. Believe it or not, I’ll need your help to find exactly where Omega is.”  
  
With those groups sorted, Thancred began to idly brush though his feathers. “Alphinaud - while you’re playing politics and all, I think I’ll be going out further to the north.” Pausing for a moment, he continued. “With Alisaie how she is, there might be some ancient Sharlayan book or another which could help her.”  
  
Urianger softly nodded, adding with a confident tone, “…The Gubal Library.” If Moenbryda didn’t know better, she’d think that was his solution to everything. Thankfully, she knew a little better - but, those books of fell magic…  
  
Moenbryda turned to Lyse and Papalymo. “You two should come with us, too! It’ll be like the Scions of the Seventh Dawn never got… well, messed up!”  
  
Papalymo, for his part, couldn’t think of a better purpose. Of course, he had trouble thinking of a purpose at all after returning to life - it was frightening. He nodded softly - he didn’t want to go, honestly, and Lyse nodded more furiously.  
  
“What about the others?” a soft voice asked - K’pandolu looked to the group, which had begun to become riled up.  
  
Lyse looked at her. “You know, the Gubal is nice and all, but there’s other sources of knowledge. Like… somebody’s gotta keep track of what Theodora and ‘shtola say, and also try and contact—”  
  
"—Contact who, exactly?” Papalymo asked - for once, he had no idea who Lyse was talking about. Well, not just once. Lyse nodded, confident.  
  
“It’s not just a who, Papalymo! It’s a whole flock of whos! Lots of people need to have their memories jolted and become weird Echo-bearers, right? So we should send out some of us to do that! And who better then a Warrior of Light or three!” The three that Lyse spoke of were K’pandolu and the Velas siblings - who currently weren’t there. Continuing, Lyse let out a little chuckle. “All you’ve gotta do is go from place to place, waking people up, and then we’ll have a lot more allies!”  
  
Really, Papalymo didn’t like the plan… but it made sense. In the way Lyse made sense. Golbez looked at the many - and gave a warm nod. As warm as he could, anyway. “Then it is decided. I shall linger back, so that I may copy my knowledge down. I shall need some to remain, so that I can keep it comprehensible…”  
  
“Let me stay behind,” Papalymo said, looking straight at the armoured scholar. As Lyse let out a mock gasp, he continued. “If a group of us are going to be breaking into the Gubal library, it shouldn’t be a large one.”  
  
Nodding sagely, Lyse looked him over. “And I sort of want to stay with you and I wanna learn more about what’s going on? So that suits me. Buuut can we escort them to the library first?”  
  
“And,” K’pandolu said, “I want to help the Fortemps too - they deserve it. Not just Haurchefant, but they were all good people, and— Honoroit.” Realising quickly that if the Fortemps were declared heretics, it meant bad for the young man, she felt her hands turning to fists. Not Honoroit. None of them deserved it, but Honoroit deserved it the least.  
  
Tataru was watching them all - ignoring the hidden presence behind her. She had already told it off once today - a wave of her hand, but it didn’t vanish. She’d… need to get more chairs, wouldn’t she. There was barely room for these people - er, mostly people. Did Esper count? Did Ascian count? They both had bodies. Would that pebble of Magicite need a seat? Would Moenbryda keep being a seat for Urianger? And if Nero was in a wheelchair, would he even need a seat? These were truly the questions that kept Tataru up.  
  
Not the fact that she knew Elidibus was right behind her after her telling off, after she pretended to be spooked by the other Ascian at the table. After all… what self-respecting Ascian would be afraid of another Ascian or two, especially ones clearly weaker then herself? Then Fandaniel? Really, she’d used it as an excuse to try and ask Elidibus what they were doing here - and having not gotten an answer she liked, she wanted to make sure they were comfortable. You know, in case they spilled their plans to an undercover one of their own.  
  
Runaway Ascian and different iterations… whatever was going to happen next, it wasn’t going to be expected.  
  
  
  
Soon, once again, the groups had been split. Tomorrow, they'd be setting off - well, hopefully. Alphinaud, Blieraux, Haurchefant, K'pandolu, Rhel and Sasaxia hoped to work their way into Ishgard - and save House Fortemps. Cid, G'raha, Nero, the Velas siblings - along with Doga and Unei - planned to work on sabotaging the airship to Azys Lla, alongside trying to find a way to awaken Omega. Meanwhile, Alisaie, Bolormaa, Lyse, Moenbryda, Papalymo, Thancred, Urianger, and Y'shtola were to open up the Great Gubal Library. Even if Lyse and Papalymo were going to be staying behind, it was Moenbryda who convinced them to come along. To gather more books.  
  
  
  
...Hopefully, they'd find answers. One of them. Golbez and Tataru were remaining in the Rising Stones - in case others who remembered came to them for assistance. Later, they’d make groups to seek those who might remember… when Lyse and Papalymo returned, that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this, friends, is why it's in the Dissidia section. As a reminder, I began this fic before NT was out - a lot of the facts within are based on my own Dissidia AU.


	16. Chapter 16

 Of course, to get into Ishgard, Cid nan Garlond would actually need to do some of his paperwork. Just as he thought - no, just as he knew from the previous time this had happened, there was a letter sealed with the mark of the Holy See, right on Jessies’ desk. Marked important, of course - but so were quite a few other letters. Mostly, Cid noted, those which seemed to be from Ul’dah… hm. Quirking an eyebrow, he strolled into the room - only to have Jessie quickly swerve around on her chair. “Cid,” she said - irritation in her voice. Before he could ask why, she held up one of the pieces of paper.  
  
Oh… their work contract for the Crystal Tower. “Instead of bringing back Allagan technology we could use to improve the lives of everybody, you hired two new employees. Without running it past me - those two don’t have any training.”  
  
“Three,” Cid corrected, before shrugging a little. “They’re clones of Allag royalty - they’ll make it easier the next time we run into a superweapon. They might be able to stop it.”  
  
…That was not the reply she wanted. “Might,” she murmured, before turning back to her desk. “Here, somebody else requested your special touch.”  
  
Just as Cid thought, Jessie handed him over the letter from the Holy See. And like last time, it requested he meet with one of their own to discuss further plans. One of House Haillenarte, if he recalled properly. Even with all the proper paperwork, it would take days - no, most likely weeks to get into the city. That gave him time to modify the Enterprise to easily smuggle others in. Of course, it’d need to not look like there had been modifications. At least, for now, Cid could speak on Linkpearl to Stephanivien - though it was weird to speak to somebody who didn’t remember. Perhaps this is how Nero felt when they first met again.  
  
As he walked off with the letter and the linkpearl contained within, he passed the room where Nero’d set up - and gave a little glance into there. Though Nero was still unable to really move for himself, with that weird shell, he’d gotten himself quite comfortable in his other side room. Many books were gathered around him, and G’raha sat at the bottom of the bed - reading a separate book. Smiling to himself, Cid continued to walk…  
  
Nero noticed the stare for a moment, but simply frowned to himself. “‘raha?” he asked, leaning forward a little. Noticing the Miqo’tes ears pricking up, Nero continued. “How do you think we’ll go once we go forth? I’ve never been in Ishgardian territory.”  
  
“Really?” G’raha asked. “I’d think you’d tail Cid, the way you look at him—”  
  
G’raha was interrupted by Nero snarling - a soft redness crossing his cheeks. “And how’s that?” Nero asked, looking so very harshly at G’raha. Denial was, after all, how he dealed with everything. Or snark, or anger.  
  
“What I meant,” G’raha said, “is that he’s been there before, right? Why haven’t you?”  
  
Nero rolled his eyes. “He was busy playing around with new machines — or something. I had my dear Omega to find.” Whenever Nero spoke of Omega, he seemed to be so enthralled by it. If it was anything else, there’d be worry of tempering. But… it was fine, right? G’raha pushed himself slightly up the bed, Nero letting out a little groan.  
  
Yeah, it was fine.  
  
Continuing, Nero sighed. “Besides, there’s some people I’d rather avoid. Figments of my past. Spies who fled.” Nero spoke, of course, of Lucia. If he didn’t need to, he wouldn’t meet her - why bother speaking with another who would see him as he was, as a hindrance to Eorzea? “But… I do think I’ll be staying in the city. There’s hidden artifacts all over. Some the empire would kill to get their hands on.”  
  
It was complex - perhaps he’d meet another Garlean, though. If he remained in the city, he’d probably remain close to the ship. Besides, he couldn’t let Cid get complacent - he’d keep him moving. Not just because of the way Cid looked as he worked - but because they had to figure this out, alongside Doga and Unei. It was quite amazing - to think! The two were here, and alive. It made Nero feel things he thought were long buried.  


* * *

As Cid paced outside, however, that’s when the person he was calling finally picked up - Stephanivien. The line on the other end sounded quite broken, though - aetherial interference, Cid supposed. “Haven’t put in any new machines lately, have you?” Cid asked, closing his eyes.  
  
“No— oh, you’re Cid Garlond, aren’t you? Miracle engineer?” the voice on the other side chirped, seeming to ignore the heavy buzzing and interference in his ear. “I’m so glad to finally get to chat to you! You gonna take my request— er, commission?”  
  
Which one was that…? Cid couldn’t remember. “Actually, I’m calling about what the Holy See wants - but, sure, I’ll help you out too.”  
  
There was a short pause on the other end of the line, not even muttering, until Stephanivien replied. “Thank you. But - is it just me, or have we had this talk before?” While Stephanivien didn’t have his memories of the past. But even so, there was an odd familiarity. “It doesn’t matter. It’s to do with my latest craft - the Autoturrets? It connects to a users’ aether to help generate bullets, see? But it makes too many. Last time I tested it out, I fainted. Got any smart ideas?”  
  
Cid sighed, leaning against the wall. “First of all, why does it need to generate bullets? It could shoot small amounts of aether, that’d do around the same thing and then it’d be safer, too. Secondly, I’d need to be there looking at its’ innards. Scratch that— I’ll need some of my employees’ over there as well. And they’d need rooms.”  
  
“Well,” Stephanivien asked, “how many you need. Like… four or so?”  
  
Pausing for a moment, Cid had an idea. “More like thirty. The Ironwork has been expanding recently - and we’ve got some real talent. If we’re going to be aiding Ishgard, can’t leave any behind.”  
  
On the other end of the line, there was a long pause - not just a long pause, but it felt almost as if he’d been hung up on. Minutes passed, and Cid considered going back inside - just as he was about to begin moving, Stephanivien spoke again. “I think we can do that. The Manor has a few spare rooms - your employees don’t mind the floor, do they? I’d offer the Skysteel, but, uh. There’s a few stray bullets, a few stray explosives hanging around - I’m picking them up, I swear!” That last bit seemed directed at somebody else - Cid couldn’t help but shake his head.  
  
But… honestly? He was glad. He could call on the others, he’d gotten this sorted. Things were going to turn out a lot better. Or so he hoped.  


* * *

It had taken weeks for Cid to modify the Enterprise - adding in more room for the others who’d be coming in. Sure, he’d been informed that their Ascian friend would be arriving invisibly. That, really, made it a little simpler - without having to sneak Haurchefant in, the group could pass easier. It was the night for them to depart - as rookies, Doga and Unei were assisting the group get onto the ship, while inspecting the work. Nero sat between them, leaning back - soon, he’d be able to walk around more.  
  
“You’re really coming?” Nero asked, though, gazing at Alisaie. Though she’d gotten robes on, masking most of her, she still had the unmistakable muzzle of a dragon.  
  
Snorting a little, Alisaie shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m going to fly from the ship, once it gets high up. Before you all head towards Ishgard.”  
  
“And,” another voice said - Thancred approaching to put an arm around Alisaie, “I’m going to come with her. We’ve been practicing flight together - and it’s good enough to get above Snowcloak, I’d say.”  
  
Of course, the sight of a dragon soaring over there was not a sight that’d be welcome to many, Ishgardians included. So that’s why Alisaie was not only cloaked, but her wings had been covered in fallen feathers. If anything, she’d look like some form of weird rare cloudkin. And since she was of no horde, it wouldn’t be a problem. Still, Nero rolled his eyes. “Not one for secretly sneaking, Thancred?”  
  
“It was my plan,” Alisaie corrected, striding back towards the wheelchair-bound automation. “Ever since the lack of movement from Iceheart, the guards and knights normally there have been diverted elsewhere.” That was only half of it - the truth was, half-remembered memories had begun to cloud more minds. More and more people had to go on sick leave, or simply abandon their post. And, of course, the investigation into House Fortemps had begun to drain even more resources.  
  
Satisfied, Alisaie walked onto the airship - smiling a little at Thancred, who followed after smugly smiling at Nero. As Doga and Unei assisted Nero up - they were the last to board - Unei seemed to look away. “I… I’m a little nervous, if I may speak my mind,” Unei admitted. “Me and Doga - of course - will not be fighting. But— still.”  
  
Nero couldn’t help but muster a smile at the two of them - at Unei. “I’d never steal your words. But— really? Nervous? You’ve got a chance to live.  
  
There’s nothing to be nervous about.”  
  
“You can say that, Nero,” Unei said, as Doga sighed.  
  
“You weren’t made simply to die,” Doga added, gruffly. It was their destiny to end what Xande had started, and yet… now they lived. Past their times. It was a kindness that they’d been given a job and a place, and yet… before the two could speak more, Nero was loud. Nero spoke to them, at the top of the airship ramp.  
  
“I told you before. It doesn’t matter what you were made for.” As he spoke, Nero frowned. Not only did Nero frown, but he stood - pushing himself away a little, finally standing under his own will. “So don’t give me that speech. Look at me - I’m some strange automation, but I’m not crying about it.” (Nero, of course, was lying. He hated it, but at the same time, it was a lot better then telling them the truth. Even as his defenses weakened, Nero wasn’t ready to share his feelings.) “You have blood. You also have wills - and Garlond’ll keep you two working. Probably make you lose that blood, but - that’s living, isn’t it?”  
  
The two silenced, Nero began to limp his way to one of the living areas that Cid had installed. He needed some rest, and some reading.  


* * *

  
While the group had expected Bolormaa to cause problems - due to her scales - none of those in the airship were trouble. Not even Alphinaud - with the hidden Eye, that thankfully wasn’t caught (thankfully for Alphinaud, at least) - was given any harder glance then any would expect. These men and women were here for the Holy See, mostly. Francel stood at the deck, waiting for them - Stephanivien was busy working, and he’d been recalled from the chaos outside the Gates. Well, recalled and also heavily questioned. (His injuries would heal soon.)  
  
But as he greeted those from outside - the Scions inside giving a short welcome before leaving to meet with Thancred and Bolormaa - he was softly held. Looking to his side, he saw— “Haurchefant?”  
  
Luckily, Francels’ voice was a whisper, as he was cuddled by the Ascian. Haurchefant softly smiled, softly stroked him, visible only to him. Whispering, Haurchefant kissed him.  
  
“I’m back. I’ll… explain later, my dear, but I’m sorry I abandoned you after such visions.”  
  
Though the hold was nice, Francel shook his head a little. He didn’t need anything to be explained - after all, he was already used to this kind of thing. “You— can all stay in the manor.  
  
I’ll lead you there.”

But as he walked, as Blieraux looked him over, the Esper couldn’t help but glance at his necklace. Softly, he looked to the invisible Ascian. “Would you take him?”

Shaking his head, Haurchefant smiled. “The Auracite is a sign of trust. Not a sign of pain - I’d come to my dears side when he called. Or when she called. I… love them both.

But it’s wrong, isn’t it. Us kind should not love,” Haurchefant mumbled, as he kissed Francel again - before lazily floating between Francel and Rhel. For a moment, it seemed there were two of them— of course there were. Emet-Selch, Angel of Death, was known for being Twins. As was their Esper self, Zalera. If Haurchefant could shift to multiple bodies - well, it made sense. As long as he seemed happy, Blieraux didn’t need to worry for them.

Besides, why would he worry? The last time he’d cared so deeply - loved Man - it had ended in pain…


	17. Chapter 17

Haillenarte Manor was a comfortable place - even if Francel was still shaky from what he’d witnessed. What they’d done. If anybody was going to be their host, however, it would be him and his family. Smuggling in unwanteds and trusting probably-heretics… Francel would need a hearty drink after all of this. The Scions, Ironworks, and Warriors of Light had gotten their own room - only two rooms could be spared, and one was to be used for their meetings. For their plans.  
  
But the night was old… and really, why would they not rest? Pile together closely, begin the next day - would they have the chance to meet with Aymeric and warn him, or would they meet with Thordan and his ilk? And what of House Fortemps…? Luckily, Sasaxia wasn’t being too fussy in the cold - for there was a warm Esper, and machines which kept the entire Manor warm. Francel had invited them in, and Francel was sure they were fine. He hoped the time would pass carefully, and they could begin to aid his friends’ House in the morning.

* * *

For Blieraux - Belias - flames were simply a part of life. It was both the warmth of life and the coldness of death, bringer of protection and harm. Guiding light, betraying light.  
  
But, for once, Belias could smell the ash of flames not created by his hand. The chaotic randomness consuming, from… where, exactly? Loosely throwing on his coat, Belias set out from the Haillenarte Manor - feeling himself moving upwards, ever upwards, rising as the blaze he sensed would be. Was he sensing it? In this realm, he was disconnected from that beauty. Hooves loud - many of Ishgard slept - Belias tried not to adjust his mask too much. An odd night, the sky was covered in darkened clouds - but the skies would not weep.   
  
What Belias saw, however, was that Fortemps Manor was up in flames. It was not just him who’d moved to watch the flames - others had awoken and rushed to the scene, but there were none getting closer. After all, those who had refused to leave that building were labelled as heretics - perhaps this was Halone, striking them down? Many had woken to the flames, not seeing a cause. That was Belias, as well - but these flames were not made by nature nor God. No lingering magic could be smelled… well, no lingering magic which could not be caused by man. A painful snarl caught in his throat, Belias pushed though the crowd, so close to the building.  
  
To them, he was the second Azure Dragoon. If there were beings alive in that building, he’d need to grab them. To hells with what the nobles thought - he was Belias. Within a moment, he’d jumped within the building.  
  
By the time he jumped out, however - it was not the same dragoon who’d entered. There were too many to rescue, and the blaze licked at their bodies. There’d not be enough time, if he left and scared the crowd off. Not just the men who descended from Fortemps blood, but their charges and assistants both. Leaving the building - bursting though the wall - was the Esper he was turned into. A promise from Gods.  
  
And that was when Belias felt the presence of another, hidden by the glow of the flames. No… he couldn’t follow them now. But using his one free arm, Belias summoned his spear - pointing it in that direction. He could sense them - and once he’d gotten these injured and hurting people somewhere safe… House Haillenartes’ Manor, where the others stayed?  
  
It did not take Belias returning to the scene of the crime to feel the one he’d sensed follow him - thankfully, not into the Manor. The thing with Belias was that he couldn’t shift back. He couldn’t just become the Au Ra again - but this was his choice. To save Man - Emet-Selch might have been right. On the fingers of the Elezen Belias looked back at, he could smell the soot which came from magic - a forgotten smell to far too many. Or, well, far too used to it. Leaning down a little, Belias examined the Elezen - though his eyes were a soft white - neatly matching his lips, they held fire. A fire not unlike his own - though not as masked. Perhaps, really, Eorzeans were less prone to that fear.  
  
It was the Elezen who offered the first words - a taunt carried in his voice. “The heretics, then?” he asked - seemingly not unnerved by the mass standing over him.  
  
Snorting, Belias stood his own ground, taking up the entire path. For a back alley of Ishgard, it was small. “They are no heretic - their pleas of innocence are not to be ignored.” For Belias - for a life he had once carried - their voices made him believe. Of course, it would not be that easy. For a moment, Belias thought he could negotiate, or perhaps even convince, this Elezen man of what he saw.  
  
But, then again, Man never changed. The first sound out of him was a soft snort - before the Elezen seemed to double over with laughter, for a moment. “Their innocence? They lie. As do you, beast. To think, that rabble saw you as a proper Azure Dragoon.”  
  
“It was the Eye which saw—”  
  
“Silence.” Now, normally, Belias wouldn’t go silent when he could crush a man… but. It may cause more chaos - who was this man? Unlike the other Warriors of Light, he’d never met Charibert before - and couldn’t tell that he was being lured into a trap - Charibert beginning to silently call for assistance on one of his Linkpearl. Even at this hour, as the still-standing Fortemps Manor smoldered, there would be many who’d come to one of the Ward. “If you recall, it was only Estinien who saw that - and he’s nothing more then a thief.” Continuing as he almost appeared cornered, Charibert laughed again. “Then again, sheep often follow their foul masters.”  
  
…To be fair, Belias was covered in warm fluff, covering most of his body. But he tried to remain unemotional, detatched. He couldn’t let this man get to him - he wouldn’t. “I have no master.”  
  
“None would take you?” Charibert taunted - the corner of his lips tugging slightly as Belias’ mane seemed to light up.  
  
There were Men who would take him. The first who trusted him, and showed him kindness. The one he would protect forevermore, if it was not for the Gods interfering. And the second— oh, the second. While his first love was a long courtship and built on tradition, his second was a whirlwind of emotions - though it could not last for long, the two cared so very much about each other… before the twelfth iteration burned away, turning to embers and memories of that passionate warmth. Burned by the manipulation of Gods, praying on weakened Men. This mere Elezen dare taunt him?  
  
…Before Belias could strike, however, he felt an arrow hit him from behind - letting it burn up in his blood and body, Belias turned backwards. More Ishgardians - they would be of noble blood. Moving one of his arms slowly, Belias conjured up his spear. Slamming it to the ground, flames suddenly seemed to sprout - flames of Ivalice, made of Mist.  
  
If he was to fight, it would be in his own way. Even if— damnit. Being in a smaller arena made it difficult for the Esper to fight to his full potential. His own flames felt relaxing, but - blade and soldiers could get though, men who listened to the Elezen who began to create his own. Unlike the flames which billowed from his spear, however, the flames from Charibert seemed to rush out, not take time to build. This meant that Belias didn’t expect them to hit so fast - nor sting so badly, knocking him backwards.  
  
As Belias stumbled, a knight slashed at one of his legs - knocking him over, making him fall. Damnit - before they could get closer, Belias cast another spell - building more wind into the flames, knocking the Spoken away, just give him some space! They crumple like Man is oft to do, but stand like knights oft struggle to do. Sneering at them, Belias swept his spear once more - flames beginning to coat it.  
  
Even as Belias readied his next attack, however, Charibert wasn’t one to stop striking. No, this was fun - it was not often he got to use his full power to take down a beast. A painful chain suddenly appeared around Belias - wrapping itself around his arms, burning at him. “Pathetic,” Belias snorted out - using flames to harm him? That, however, wasn’t the end of it - Charibert aimed Widowmaker at the very face of Belias.  
  
With a thick blast of flames - unending, almost like a beam - Belias let out a scream. Within a minute, a shattering sound echoed. These flames had caught the attention of other Ishgardians. As the flames vanished, Belias seemed to slump down. Charibert sneered, placing his rod to the now-fallen Esper. “Filthy rat. Your lie ends now, Blieraux.”  
  
…Blieraux. The identity he’d shed to save man. Belias raised his head again - his mask had shattered, showing his face - a mix of sheep and man, scarred heavily around his eyes. Piercing blue-grey eyes stared right at Charibert, softer then expected from an Esper. “…A lie, you say,” he whispered - snarled - as he stood again. That mask had been a gift - one broken by these men. If Belias had no attachment, he would burn them all away.  
  
But flames could be a kindness. “All of you live under a lie. Is it _truth_ you desire?” As Belias spoke, he seemed to create a flame from himself - aiming it at his spear. “Then you shall have your _damned truth_!” Upwards, he leaped - almost as if he was still a dragoon - and pierced Charibert. To hells with keeping him alive - the marks on his arms were signs of why he shouldn’t. Why he wouldn’t. As he pierced the Elezen though, flames vomitting around them…  
  
…the same energy which Haurchefant— no, Emet-Selch had used seemed to radiate. Spreading though the entire Ishgardian area, Belias would give them their truth. As he removed his spear from the ground, there were no remains of what he’d struck - not even lingering magic. No corpse remained, and that was what Belias desired. Standing - snarling at the crowd - Belias began to walk. The crowds began to part, memories pulling at them of the future. Unlike Emet-Selch, Belias was not a comfort, he’d not let his heart open for them again.  
  
If it was not for those he stayed with, Belias would have simply left. But it was wrong not to tell them what he did… wasn’t it? He had brought murder. Hadn’t he? Usually, his flames did not destroy bodies. But how could he survive?  
  
…Perhaps this was because they were not his flames, not the flames he could create in Ivalice. A pale imitation. He would not enter the Haillenarte Manor, however. It was not his place…

* * *

Belias had remained outside the building as the sun rose, his short tail softly swaying. Shouts of chaos seemed to cover the entire city, from those who were awakening to knowledge of the future. One of those, of course, was inside the building - well, more then one. And so, it took quite some time for one of them to notice one of their own was missing.  
  
The one who wandered out was the weakened Alphinaud - dizzy and having trouble telling where he was. Meekly collapsing onto Belias, Belias let out a soft rumble, softly warming up Alphinaud. He felt so cold - and magic crackled all around him, poisoning him— poisoning him. Belias was no Ascian, but he could feel this. Softly rubbing the back of the child, Belias closed his eyes. His face was exposed, but it didn’t matter.  
  
A voice soon cut though the scene - a familiar voice, kind but pointed. “…Who are you?” It was K’pandolu - who’d come after the shivering Alphinaud. Raising his head again, before staring right at her, Belias gently spoke. No point making Alphinaud pained though headaches.  
  
“…I am Belias - the true form of Blieraux. My apologies - I had to do what I must do,” he said - before he noticed… she was petting his fur? What…? “Are you quite fine, K’pandolu…?”  
  
“You’re soft,” K’pandolu said, before pausing. “And wait, what did you do? Other then… gaining some arms. Come on inside - there’s a very shaky machinist who could use a pillow.”  
  
Truly, it only took kind words for the Esper to rise, remaining gripped to Alphinaud, entering the house. So this is how he’d explain.

* * *

“So,” Rhel said, the group gathered around. The Fortemps who’d been brought into the manor were still resting, but those who were being sheltered within had gathered around a rather nice dining table. “You took on Charibert and killed him. And then restored the memories of every single Ishgardian?” Belias nodded, and Rhel couldn’t help but just… stare. Alphinaud weakly looked from the fur he’d bundled himself into, before collapsing again. “You didn’t do this, did you?”  
  
Shaking his head, Belias snorted. “He does not carry my Auracite - and I am in no need of a new body.”  
  
“…So you’re going to stay as a big hulking monster, too,” Rhel said - even if there wasn’t the anger Belias expected from her. From all those who judged him - from Sasaxia who sat by one of his large arms, to Velas’to who looked… well, upset. Slightly tilting his head, Belias let out a confused groan at Velas’to.  
  
“Y’know how I wanted t’become a Primal? And died?” Velas’to stated, before slamming his grimoire closed. “Now I see you becoming an awesome fluffy deathbeast and you got to take down a bad guy I didn’t even know about?! Why?!”  
  
Snorting again, Belias shook his head. “You call Charibert a… bad guy, but he was another man—”  
  
“He was more of a monster,” another voice said - before Haurchefant appeared, out of nothing. Of course the Ascian would be hanging around his wife. “He— was going to kill my family. I should be thanking you - except for the fact that Ishgard shall fall.”  
  
After Belias paused for another moment - clearly unaware of what Haurchefant meant - the Ascian-Elezen settled in next to Rhel. “Well - in the old universe, did it not take a lighter touch to show the war was wrong - including the end of Thordan? I regret to inform you all that Thordan lives - oh, as do eleven of his twelve. Now - I’m not quite aware how Thordan will quiet this, but it might be dangerous.”  
  
Hm. He was right, wasn’t he? Sasaxia looked over, her voice quiet. “…This time, will not lose Ysayle. She is… still go talk to Hah… Hara…”  
  
“Hraesvelgr,” Rhel said, helping the struggling Lalafell. “That’s true - and right now, Nidhogg still only has that borrowed eye. I don’t like to admit it, but right here is more of a problem then out there for now.” That, too, was true - Belias snorted again, before feeling Alphinaud begin to struggle again.  
  
Before Alphinaud could speak, though, Sasaxia stood. “Right. Then… will need to kill Thordan!”  
  
“Sasa, no,” Rhel commented out of habit. Even if killing Thordan would help… at the same time, it was still an illegal act. Belias had already murdered one - even if he was an enemy, it could still be seen as a crime, and they could be tried or executed. But… hm. “We’ll have to trap him. Sasa? Do you remember the key to Alyz Lla?”  
  
Sasaxias’ eyes seemed to light up. “Mhm! Was with Bird Ones, and Whale One— Whale One has not eaten yet! Can get, and make friends!”  
  
“Exactly. I think we need to lure him and his eleven up there, to try and summon their Primal form again. Once that’s done, we can end it again.” Really, Rhels’ plan was one which also… followed the old timeline. As she explained it, though, Velas’to was wagging his tail.  
  
This frustrated him. “Y’mean that people can become Primal!? And I couldn’t?”  
  
Haurchefant ignored his comment as he brought up something more important. “The Garlean Empire also desires to gain the key to Alyz Lla. How will we stop them?”  
  
The next voice - Alphinaud - was not one they expected. But his whispers were… well, he had a good point. “…Garlemald dislikes the use of magic over science - and do not believe the dead survive in any way. Belias, you can awaken memories from a distance?” Belias let out a soft hm, a gentle stroke of his back - before realising what Alphinaud meant. Nodding, Belias let Alphinaud continue. “If they remember the death of Regula van Hydrus, they’ll… leave their claim behind, at least for a time.”  
  
Time was what they seemed to have, and seemed to want, wasn’t it? But if this was their plan, then… it seemed like the sort which wouldn’t work. That was the sort of plan which this group was used to, it seemed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where that Graphic Violence tag comes into play. So, uh, be careful.

Night had parted to day, and Ishgard was still in a panic. Many knights had abandoned their posts, and even more people had not left their homes in the morning. Recalling the Dragonsong War was one thing, but those who had died sometime during it were not pleased. But the Warriors of Light - the ragtag group who used that label - had met again, this time by the airship docks. Cid and Nero were quite busy - as were Biggs and Wedge, there were many things to create to try and figure out… well, everything.  
  
So, then, it was odd to them that Doga stood across from them, writing down in Allagan the requests. “You wish to sneak in and take a key to Alyz Lla?” he asked, tilting his head. As Sasaxia enthusiastically nodded, however, Doga gave a shrug. “There’s another way to get there. It might take a little while, but me and Unei could recreate it. We’ll call G’raha - your Linkpearls are great.”  
  
“…You’re going to replicate a creation of Allag in this Era - will it truly work?” Velas’a asked, his tail swishing. This was fascinating - the sort of things he’d love to create. Doga crossed his arms, looking off to the distance.  
  
After a moment, he nodded. “If we can’t find the proper materials, there’s a lot of devices in the Crystal Tower which could assist. Or, who knows - Xande may have had a spare key.” It was a joke, but on the other hand, it could be the way out of this. “Me and Unei aren’t exactly engineers, but we’re part of the Garlond Ironworks now.”  
  
“You know,” Velas’a mumbled, “I could help. I’m— I’m not a fighter. Besides,” he said as he pulled up one of his pants’ legs to expose one of his Magitek legs, “I know a thing or two about. Um. Craft.”  
  
Doga nodded enthusiastically. “That’s another Garlond invention, isn’t it?”  
  
“…Um, actually,” Velas’a said. “He— we— made it together. The first version.” As he spoke to Doga, the rest of the group moved off the docks - before Sasaxia spoke up.  
  
“Are thinking New Azure One is okay?”  
  
It took a moment for Rhel to remember - oh. Sasaxia had begun to call Aymeric the New Azure One, after the Dragonsong War had ended. And— yeah. If Belias had awoken everybody, then Aymeric would be one of them. They should go to his home - see if he was fine. It’d be okay, wouldn’t it…? Nodding, Rhel looked to the group.  
  
“We should get his opinion.”

* * *

The streets were heavily filled with smoke and panic, the skies dark with the panic of memories restored. But the small group of Warriors of Light had walked to the door to Borel Manor, ready to enter it. Before coming, of course, the group had gotten dressed a little nicer. Velas’a had put on a large hooded cloak - to hide his ears even better. Plus, Rhel and K’pandolu could rest in the coat - three Miqo’te heading though the streets. Well, two Miqo’te and a Viera - the group had decided it would be best if it was only a few of them going to meet him - and, hopefully, he would come and meet with the others later. As they arrived, though, the door was ever so slightly ajar.  
  
Without pausing, Velas’a opened the door - putting on the same stride and tone he’d use when reporting to his superiors in Garlemald. “…Pray forgive our intrusion, but—”  
  
Velas’a went silent at the state of the entrance room - tables and chairs shattered, almost as if a wild beast rushed the room. Burns lingered, and the slight smell of aetheric manipulation lingered. Shit— had somebody come for him first? Velas’a bit his lip, until soft shaky footsteps shuffled from a nearby room. The three moved towards it - opening the door, to the bloodied but fine Aymeric.  
  
“—The Warriors of Light,” Aymeric said, sounding a little relieved - moving his hand from his blade. “May we return to your housing? It’s not safe here - the Heavens’ Ward is on the move.”  
  
“What happened?” K’pandolu asked, as the group began to move - moving to help Aymeric, as he limped out. He shrugged, an arm around her. Before he left the house, however, Aymeric gave a soft glance back.  
  
And then, Aymeric looked to Velas’a. “Could one of you go find Lucia? I haven’t seen her since—” Aymeric paused, trying to hold back a gulp, “since whatever force awoke these latent memories.” Velas’a nodded - moving straight away. So Aymeric remembered him - and remembered that he was probably the best one to explain the situation to Lucia, and use the proper words and all that. As he left them, Aymeric slumped a little on the two female Miqo’te, dropping his voice to a whisper. “…Nobody has seen my father since the event. You wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would either of you?”  
  
“Actually, it was one of us,” Rhel said - shaking her head a little. “Blieraux got out of control.” Aymeric seemed to take this in stride, even if his eyes seem to flicker for a moment - looking away. “He used his powers, and— he woke these memories. Of the future - these memories aren’t of things which have happened to us.”  
  
“We think, anyway,” K’pandolu added - this was confusing to both of them.  
  
“Blieraux is still at our base - we’ve been staying with House Haillenarte,” Rhel said, shifting a little to take more of Aymerics’ weight. If she couldn’t take on his responsibility, then she could at least help with this.  
  
Taking this in, Aymeric let out a long sigh. Drawn out, his thoughts were clearer then usual. “First Estinien, now Blieraux - perhaps, once this is over, the title of Azure Dragoon should be retired?” he joked, before putting on a slightly more serious expression. “After that, the remaining eleven of the Heavens’ Ward came to try and kill me, in the chaos brought on. However…” Aymeric trailed off, his quiet voice seeming to grow even weaker. “It was strange. None of their hearts were in it.”  
  
As he went quiet once more, Aymeric walked alongside the group - soon, they’d get to the Manor, and he would be able to explain more. And not spend his time contemplating what he saw. And how Estinien had reacted when it happened…

* * *

“…And the eleven of them came to my house,” Aymeric said once more, the group in the Manor gathered in their dining room. While Aymeric had been given quite the nice chair, a lot of the group had moved their chairs closer. Belias looked ashamed as always, resting besides him - warming him. (Injuries did not deserve the cold.) Of course, Belias wondered if he should shrug Sasaxia out of his fur - but, then again, she was passive. That’s all he could hope from the sylph-raised Lalafell. Watching intently were the two Miqo’te - Rhel and K’pandolu - with Rhel now near to Haurchefant. Of House Fortemps was Artoirel, looking over at his brother now and again - wondering when he’d explain. (Alas, Edmont was still resting from the smoke - and Emmanellian wasn’t with them, claiming somebody had to watch over their father. If Haurchefant didn’t know better, he’d think his brother was avoiding the subject.) If he’d explain. However, Haurchefant had brought another into the city - Lady Iceheart, who remained standing in one of the corners of the room.  
  
This wasn’t her place. Then again, Alphinaud was in a seat near to her, glancing at her much like Artoirel was to Haurchefant. Placing a hand to the nervous Elezen, Ysayle continued to pay attention to Aymeric - putting on a brave face. That was all they could do.  
  
“The Heavens’ Ward would recall the last… the future? What exactly is going on?” Aymeric said, looking to the group. Hoping, pleading, silently. He needed the information, but he still continued. “As such, they’d… recall my questioning, and the orders of the Archbishop.”  
  
“That is correct.” Belias said, huffing so very quietly, looking up. “And this is… a situation not unlike seeing the future. It is seeing what could have happened, seeing what has happened before. Time breaking, and yet… being able to use it to change fate.”  
  
Changing fate - Aymeric nodded. The use of magic, the use of all of this - perhaps it was an omen. But before he could speak, Lucia placed a hand on him. “You’re not planning on—”  
  
“—Even if he does not remember, the fact that Archbishop Thordan is missing after the incident is a prime reason to send in a small group to see if he is safe,” Aymeric said, smiling up at her. “If this group happens to be made of Warriors of Light and their allies, that would not be a problem.”  
  
“…If I may?” Velas’to said, looking to group. “I mean, I was dead at th’ time, but don’t some of us need to take down Nidhogg? I mean - findin’ this Thordan guy’s also important, but… there’s a giant dragon out there?” It still felt weird to the Viera, that he was alive again. Perhaps he could make up for lost time - but at the same time, he simply wished to play his role. Looking to Ysayle, Velas’to continued. “I think a group of us should - go and awaken those who can help us, r-right?”  
  
Thinking for a moment, Ysayle nodded in agreement. “I will go with that group - to talk to Hraesvelgr. I know my words will be little comfort, but if memories are to return, then—”  
  
“—It’ll be better if that big dragon knows you’re in this world? This weird reborn world,” Velas’to finished, trying to wag his little tail proudly. She nodded again, before looking back to the group.  
  
“Hopefully, we may meet with Estinien on the way. He still holds the way to defeat Nidhogg - and, believe it or not, I want to see him once more.” Ysayle put a hand to her other hand, softly sighing to herself. How would he feel? It was something she didn’t want to think about. But, again, something that she’d need to consider. As she softly stepped forward, towards Velas’to, Belias then spoke up.  
  
The Esper seemed to avert his gaze, however, as his voice rumbled. “If what you desire is to defeat Nidhogg, then I shall assist. Perhaps it shall make up for this chaos…”  
  
“I’ll go too - I want to see this to its’ end,” another voice said - the group turning to see Artoirel standing there. “I— want to fight for House Fortemps.” It was almost lucky that though the smoke and fire, Artoirel stood without injury. Having tied his hair back, he was unharmed - and Belias nodded to him.  
  
“…You are as unharmed as your family - were the tales of heresy false?” Belias asked, standing to approach the Elezen - trying not to tower over him. A moment passed… and Artoirel shook his head.  
  
Dropping his voice to a whisper, Artoirel looked down. “I appreciate your rescue, Blieraux. However… I am a heretic, of Khamja.” A pause, as Artoirel looked to Ysayle. To Iceheart. “Khamja are an offshoot of mages and assassins, who disagreed that peace and discussion would work. When Emmanellian was young, he ended up captured by them - if I had not found him, he would have been poisoned. In order to protect him, I joined them.  
  
Their goal was to change nobles into Dravanian, to bring unstability without harming the lowborn. I— I never told my family, and for all Emmanellian knows, I bribed them—”  
  
“—you did what, Artoirel?” Emmanellians’ voice echoed though the room, as he stood at the doorway - a sling over his arm, burns on the side of his face. His eyes were wide. Artoirel looked back to him, frowning. But before he could talk, Emmanellian gave a soft whine. “You— you’re the heretic? Why couldn’t you flee them?”  
  
Artoirel shook his head softly. “It’s not like that. You can’t flee them. If I tried— both our lives would be forfeit, if not all of House Fortemps. I couldn’t put us though that, Emmanellian - not while we still breathed.”  
  
Taking a shaky step towards his brother, Artoirel continued. “As long as I carry out the orders that Khamja gave me, no harm will come to us. That includes… poisoning and changing nobles who cross them. Any who try to limit their power.”  
  
The two brothers stood side-by-side, until Belias snorted. “Khamja exist in this iteration? If that is the case, I shall pledge myself to defending you from their blades.” A beat, and Belias then added, “they existed in Ivalice - both past and future. Manipulating Wars and Law both. If we end the Dragonsong War once again, they shall lose that power over your House.”  
  
“—I’ll stay and make sure Father is fine, then,” Emmanellian said, nodding as he tried to hold back a mix of tears and fear both. After all, this was quite a lot of people to travel together. A Viera, an Esper, a Heretic Lord, and one captured and manipulated by Khamja… that seemed like a smart group. Clearly, he should remain at home. Hopefully with Haurchefant - with these memories back, perhaps they could bond. Of course, Emmanellian had no idea that Haurchefant was an Ascian. But did that matter?  
  
While those brothers talked, however, Velas’a turned to Velas’to and frowned. “…’to. Listen. You need to come back,” Velas’a said, biting his lower lip slightly. “Even if you’re around… well, two beings who did what you wanted. Don’t— work too hard.”  
  
Velas’to looked to Velas’a. “I— won’t get consumed. Won’t be like with the Riskbreakers. I promise.” Sighing a little, Velas’to frowned. “D’ya think they’ve gotten their memories back? Th’company, I mean.  
  
…I hope, no matter what, they’re doin’ better then when I was with ‘em.”  
  
Velas’to was ashamed of himself. Him, a hero who helped fell Gaius, had snapped and given too much. Hurt those he cared for. Putting a hand to his brother, Velas’a gave the softest of smiles. “I’m sure they’d love to see you again, if they remember. Listen… how about we go there, once we’ve stopped this whole Ishgardian thing?”  
  
“…Sure. If they haven’t gotten their memories back, I’m sure— well, I’m sure it’ll go fine.”  
  
Lucia, meanwhile, approached Artoirel - looking between the brothers. “Once you return, you will be put under the protection of the Temple Knights - in exchange for information on what business Khamja has with us.” Unlike Artoirel, Lucia knew more - that they weren’t just a gang of heretics. No, that’d be too easy. They were a rather large group in Garlemald as well, and it was rumoured that Gaius and Regula both had marks from Khamja on their bodies. Members, in a way. If what these people were saying was the truth…  
  
…perhaps they had something to do with all of this. Frowning, Lucia looked back to Artoirel, as he nodded. “I— can’t just leave them, Lady Lucia. But I’ll do what I must.”  
  
Doing what he must was all that Artoirel could do - but, really? It was all that everybody could do, in this realm.

* * *

The next day seemed to begin oddly quiet - that is, until the group seeking the Vault saw the notice left outside their door. Due to the events recently, the Temple Knights had ordered people to stay in place. Of course, near their door, Lucia was waiting. She hadn’t slept over - that wouldn’t suit her. The group for Nidhogg had left earlier, before the notices were sent out. Was this a way to prevent all-out war, once it was seen the group heading towards the Vault - towards, hopefully, Thordan?  
  
That was what the group who’d decided to go had told themselves. Velas’a, for his part, was going to stick by Doga and Unei, and continue working on a way to Azys Lla - even if the plan had shifted to stopping Thordan here. Just in case they needed to go to the skies, the group didn’t have time to ask for help from Matoya. And, besides - it would be a bit of a mess waking her memories. She was grumpy enough in the original timeline - it would be a pain in this one. It was truly a small group going towards the Vault - Aymeric would lead them. Sasaxia stood behind Aymeric lugging her greatsword - which was bigger then her - ready as backup. Rhel and K’pandolu both stood a little back, even if K’pandolu was more ready to punch then Rhel. Alphinaud had also insisted on coming - standing a little stronger then yesterday, though he hasn’t summoned a Carbuncle yet.  
  
Hopefully, the group could go without a dedicated healer. With the fact one of their healers was Lyse, and the other was Golbez - there was simply not time to call for Golbez to ask for assistance. He’d be studying, while Lyse would be with Papalymo - if not assisting the group to Gubal, then beginning to travel and awaken more memories across Eorzea. Either way, it was no time to ask for their help. While Alphinaud could heal a little, he was a Summoner-to-be - at least, that’s what it seemed like.  
  
Armed with potions and the such from Francel - who knew he was good at that kind of craft - the group began to walk though the empty streets. Avoiding paths with the poor, those who couldn’t huddle inside. Those that would need to be aided, if Ishgard was to truly heal from the Dragonsong War.  
  
But before that could begin, the group needed answers from the Vault - from the Archbishop. And standing before the gates, Aymeric gave the softest shake of his head. “This won’t be easy. We carve a path to his chambers - no matter who stands in the way. However, our goal is to disarm - not to murder. If we’re correct, then everybody here has died once before.”  
  
In other words - there was no use putting them though the trauma of death once again, Aymeric reasoned. Firmly nodding backwards, Aymeric stepped though the gates.

* * *

Unlike when the Warriors of Light had come to save Aymeric, the paths inside the Vault had no guards. Well, that was a lie - a few remained, but did not strike. One or two glanced as if they wanted to, it was their job, but a single glance from Aymeric stopped them. That was, until they got to the Vault Nave - with Ser Adelphel standing steady, the gates forward closed and locked.  
  
After a long tense moment, it was Adelphel who spoke first. “…So you survived, Ser Aymeric. I was certain you would.”  
  
“You weren’t attempting very hard,” Aymeric pointed out, raising an arm - asking the Warriors to stay back. Just until talking failed, which he hoped it wouldn’t. The arena around them was clean, glaring - nearly blinding.  
  
Adelphel shook his head. “It’s hard to focus on orders when— this matter is not your business, Lord Commander,” he stated, feet only the slightest bit shuddering. As the group of warriors got closer and closer, Adelphel unsheathed his blade. “It is to be handled by the Heavens’ Ward and the Archbishop.”  
  
“Clearly, are Handling Ones,” Sasaxia said, rolling her eyes. Undisturbed by the Sylph, Adelphel continued, nodding to himself.  
  
“You are in breach of the law, Aymeric. Will you be leaving, or…?”  
  
As he spoke, though, Aymerics’ eyes widened. No, not because of anything Adelphel said - but because even though his stance was steady, his holy white garb was beginning to get stained by blood. Injuries— untreated? No, if they were untreated, then the blood would have stained his clothes before this. “—You can’t stop us,” Aymeric stated. Blood stained Adelphel - not just his clothes, but it almost seemed to tremble from his lips. Wherever it began, it was his shoulders which turned the deepest crimson. “What—”  
  
“—That boy, Alphinaud,” Adelphel hissed, his legs finally buckling. Shockingly, as he fell to the ground, K’pandolu dashed over to make sure he didn’t hit the ground too hard. Sure, he was their enemy. Sure, she didn’t quite like him. But even then - he had information. As Adelphel was moved to one of the metallic fence walls, he glanced from Aymeric to the Miqo’te, to the Lalafell who’d begun to wander. “He burst in here, and— he’s a heretic.”  
  
“…No he isn’t,” Rhel said, looking over to Sasaxia - barely listening to him. Sasaxia had wandered to the locked gate, beginning to look it over. Locked - not just locked, but bits of the metal were twisted together. Almost like… huh. Not any form of magic she’d known.  
  
Dread was beginning to descend upon all those in the room, as Adelphel continued. “His flames— they’re stronger then even Ser Chariberts were. They did that - “ Adelphel pointed to the twisted gate “ - in a single breath. The others should be able to stop him, but…”  
  
But…? Pausing for a moment, Adelphel gave a frown. “It’s Nidhogg. It has to be— no other Dravanian has that power - that damned boy has his blood—!!” Adelphel coughed, blood beginning to dribble from his mouth. Aymeric looked back to the group, before shaking his head.  
  
“Get him to safety. As soon as he’s gone, we’re going a quicker way— if Alphinaud is possessed, we need to get to my father.”

* * *

Thordans’ Hall - the very same room where the adventurers had met with him in the original timeline, before the reset - was cold. Chilled. Moreso then Ishgard outside. While there was bloodless near-slaughter outside, inside, there was only one corpse.  
  
The corpse of Archbishop Thordan VII, on his throne, sword empaled though his body. Ascalon - lacking the Eye of Nidhogg it had been given - remained poking though him, blood dripping to the ground - crimson staining the tiles. Softly, quietly, Aymeric was the first to enter the room - to gaze at his father, to gaze at what happened. Each of his tiny footsteps echoed though the hall, to the high roof. Each of his footsteps was filled with hesitation, bile building in his throat.  
  
Until, that is, the group saw Alphinaud. He wasn’t trying to hide, mind you - nor was he trying to be seen. The young Elezen seemed to be standing up much finer then even when he ran off - a familiar red orb gripped in his hands. Glowing—  
  
—shit. All at once, the group realised what was happening. As Alphinaud held one, the other seemed to be glimmering by him. Standing by his side was a Carbuncle, covered in scales - tinted a dark blue, barely glowing. A few pages from his book were ripped on the ground, covered in the same blood which drenched the archbishop - a few organs (or so it looked like) spilled over them. Alphinaud was so close to the corpse, bleeding a little for himself. Spitting some of the blood out - and some teeth, some adult teeth - the boy snarled.  
  
Aymeric made his way over - the three women following, flanking him. “Alphinaud— the Eyes,” Aymeric said, as confident and calm as he was speaking to anybody. This was different then Estinien - they weren’t fused into his skin now. Just the aether of a Carbuncle and being held in his hands. Perhaps if somebody - perhaps if he could get though to Alphinaud, then nobody else had to suffer.  
  
As Alphinaud looked over to him, however, it was already too late. His Elezen eyes were dull, fangs were growing in where his teeth had been. His tongue seeming to grow longer as he licked his lips, Alphinaud looked up to Aymeric. “I shall not falter again,” Alphinaud snarled out, his voice not his own. As he pulled his tongue back in, his fangs scraped against it - blood having to be spit out again, towards Aymeric.  
  
Even Nidhogg - or at least, whatever hatred remained as Nidhogg - would recall what happened before. Did Nidhogg awaken before all of this? The movement of the Horde had been very curious for many moons - striking very queer targets. Holding the Eye closer, Nidhogg - inside Alphinaud - snorted.  
  
That is, until he was punched in the arm. K’pandolu tried to pull at the arm she’d punched, trying to get it off of the Eye. After all, wasn’t this the best way to seperate them? “Did you— Thordan?” she asked, desperate.  
  
Alphinaud bit at her, gripping onto her fingers. He didn’t let out any words, simply biting harder and harder until she let go of his arm - ripping away flesh as he pulled away. Distracted, however, the possessed Alphinaud didn’t notice the frozen magic binding his movements coming. Freeze. Quickly, Rhel and Sasaxia rushed up - Sasaxia jumping onto Alphinauds’ back. With the help of the four of them, Alphinaud seemed pinned - the Carbuncle not moving.  
  
That is, until the small semi-fluffy beast let out a deafening screech, the party flinching. Within a moment, the possessed Alphinaud had knocked the party away with his new tail, letting it flick a few extra times for good measure - dripping with liquids not meant to spill from an Elezen. Before they could stand again, flames erupted from it - whipping and creating a barrier between them. “Sons of Man - you will not end me once more!” Alphinaud screamed at them, before a bright flash seemed to engulf him.  
  
As it faded, Alphinaud was gone - as was the Carbuncle. The flames had vanished, but light shone in from outside - above them, the ceiling had been ripped open by the beast taking their ally. It didn’t take any time for Aymeric to look from it, to his passed father, to the group. “You three - go take news of this to Lucia and the rest of your Scions. I… have work to do,” Aymeric said. As the three ladies left, Lucia walked in - she’d been following. Placing a hand to Aymeric, Lucia simply shook her head. They’d deal with this - no matter how long it took.


	19. Chapter 19

Even with the drama around Ishgard, Skysteel was still working well. But instead of airships, the machinists were more focused on stronger dragon-slaying devices. Quite a few of the people inside were unable to cope with what had been revealed. As sad as that was, it gave the Garlond Ironworks employees almost free reign.  
  
Cid couldn’t help but notice the readings on the machine he was tampering with - a request from Golbez, to sense energy levels from far-away. Sure, they weren’t coming from inside, or in the direction of Dravania or beyond. Idly, Cid wondered if those who had gone to the old Sharlayan land had arrived yet. But the spike of power - it was were coming from… the south-east? But that was back towards Eorzea. And those readings— “Bloody hells, it’s Omega!” he shouted, looking back to Biggs and Wedge. “Me and G’raha have to go - you two, shelter in place!” Before the two could protest, Cid had rushed off to retrieve the Miqo’te - they had to stop Omega from awakening. Otherwise, everything they’d done so far would have been worthless. It was a bit of a flight, from Skysteel to the Flats, but they had to. For a moment, Cid wondered where Nero had gone—  
  
—shit. Of course Cid couldn’t trust him - he’d tried, he’d tried so hard, but Nero was Nero. He’d go off and try and wake Omega and cause more chaos. Swiftly, he made his way into the side room G’raha was staying in - and grabbed him by the collar. “G’raha! You were meant to keep an eye on him!”  
  
G’raha tried to pull away a little, his collar feeling tighter and tighter. “He said he’d be back in a few days - some weird sound was bothering him, and—”  
  
“And what?! You just let him? Seven hells - it might be too late for him! Omega— Omega’s awake!” Cid was trying so hard not to scream at G’raha, to not panic too much - but his one fleshy knuckle was white, his legs weren’t able to stay still, and his eyes remained wide, unfocused. “…Nero might be dead.”  
  
…Why did that bother Cid so much? Maybe he thought that Nero surviving Amon and dying to Omega wasn’t something he wanted to consider. Or maybe… no, that was impossible. Within moments, both Cid and G’raha were in an old prototype of Wedges’. “Now, if we do this— it’ll be a bumpy ride, but it’ll be quick,” Cid said - adjusting a few controls. Removing the selfsame speed limiter he made Wedge install. To hells with the danger - they had to get from the Holy See to the Flats in… well, as fast as possible.  
  
Before G’raha could ask what Cid meant, the airship rocketed to life - vibrating angrily. Loudly, the ship sped off - gripping to the clouds.  
  
Really, the entire flight was a blur. Sure, Cid and G’raha had their hands on the controls. And, sure, at one point Cid swore he saw the skies shimmering. If that was Omega, though, then they had cause for concern.  
  
When he arrived at the Carteneau Flats, however - around where Omega had been found before - he did not find the monster of a machine. What he found, however, was nearly worse…

* * *

Crystal was broken around them, ruins crumbling more. A soft fog trembled though the air, choking the air. It smelled like a mix of ceruleum, aether, and blood. Shakily standing from the barely-standing airship, Cid had to lean against a nearby pillar - G’raha joining him, before the two noticed a Roegadyn hiding behind the pillar. Before either of them could ask them anything, they let out a soft ssh.  
  
That’s when the machine appeared. Though it was only about twice the height of the hiding Roegadyn, it sure stood out. It almost looked insectoid with four sharpened limbs - coated in a crimson sheen, it was letting out long whines. No, not whines - that’d imply it wasn’t on the hunt. But perhaps it was a form of echolocation - or a warning, just like the deep blue it seemed to glow from its’ joints. For a moment, G’raha noticed it stop - sharp points at the end of its’ limbs turning to claws.  
  
It was looking right at the pillar. Scanning them— Cid tried to remain still, even as the pit of his stomach felt almost ready to leave his body. It held a face so very familiar, so much like Omega, scanning them with that single bar across their face. But… it continued to move, seeming to ignore the three there. Quickly, while the machine was distracted, G’raha turned to the Roegadyn. “What— what is that?!”  
  
“I don’t know— I don’t! I was hired as a bodyguard for the Mirage Trust - something about an ancient treasure? We approached, and then we were met with that— it already ate my client!” they said, trying to remain speaking in a harsh whisper. It… ate them? G’raha tilted his head, and the Roegadyn continued - and continued to try and move away. “Teledji Adeledji brought us here - promised we’d have riches beyond our greatest imagination.”  
  
Wealth. G’raha let out a tch - from what he’d heard of Omega - and what that beast seemed to show… well, wealth was not a good reason to wake it. But this wasn’t how Cid described it, either. How Cid described it was—  
  
—shit. The mechanical monster had appeared in front of them this time, scanning - and suddenly, it began to scramble towards the three, large red bug-like wings unfurling. Well, really, those wings were more like the shell of a beetle. With a swift movement, the Roegadyn had been pierced with one of the claws of the beast - and turning to an ooze in the touch of this not-Omega, melting away to nothing in a moment. Almost seeming dismissive, the machine flicked it away - but both Cid and G’raha couldn’t help but notice the slime seemed to turn to solid metal, as the machine… ignored them? It had clearly seen them - the Roegadyn was next to them. But instead of attacking, it remained looking at the two.  
  
It was foolish, but Cid began to walk towards it. Though it had just murdered somebody in cold blood, the machine… had a beauty to it, perhaps it could be used for more then destruction. What else could the odd feeling in his chest be, the weird flustering he felt? G’raha felt himself facepalming a little as Cid got closer and closer.  
  
As he approached, though, the machine seemed to lower - meekly placing its’ head to the ground, letting Cid examine it. Softly, he began to rub his arm against it - before a pain seemed to shoot though that same arm - Cid let out a loud curse word. The robot remained still, almost seeming to flinch. Rushing forward, G’raha put a hand to the Garlean. “You okay?”  
  
Cid tried to nod, but this pain was quite horrific. But instead of answering about that, he looked straight at G’raha. “Can you go look at that other pile of metal? If it— if there’s any Roegadyn left, bring it here,” he said - the gears in his brain beginning to put things together. He felt so tired suddenly, though… perhaps he could sit by the machine. Especially if his theory was the truth.  
  
Cid nan Garlond had been careless. Softly, he leaned back a little - trying not to lean against the not-Omega, but his body felt like it was beginning to grow… heavier? No, that wasn’t the right term. If he felt heavier, he’d not want to just remain still. It didn’t take long for G’raha to return - one of his belts ripped off and carrying… something.  
  
Once Cid saw what it was, he knew… he had been careless. “This is what was there - isn’t it like what was coming out of…”  
  
“…out of Nero, yes,” Cid mumbled. “Back then - I got some of it on me.” He’d shrugged it off, but now… the heaviness had spread from his arm, hadn’t it. Weakly shifting his gaze to his arm, Cid could see… it wasn’t solid anymore. Soft but thick slime seemed to have begun to bundle from his arm, down to the fog-touched metallic ground. “…G’raha,” he mumbled, looking the Miqo’te in the eyes. “You— should go. Take the Falcon.”  
  
It took less then a moment for G’raha to grip to Cid. “I— I can’t do this. You— I’m not like you, Cid — there has to be something I can do,” he said, slightly squishing into his chest, leaving a slight imprint as Cid tried to move him away with his metal arm.  
  
Softly, carefully choosing his words, Cid tried his hardest to reassure G’raha with words, even as he felt his legs begin to grow motionless. “…I want you to go into my safe. In there— there’s quite a few trinkets even I didn’t trust myself with.” With his magitek arm, he gave G’raha a small card. “There’s… things which could aid the Ironworks in there,” he admitted, softly leaning backwards onto the now-quiet machine. Really, Cid didn’t want to die here, but… his body was melting, his bones were fusing with his skin and muscle and mind.  
  
Shakily holding the small card in both his hands, G’raha turned and ran. Not because he was going to do what Cid said - but if this was related to Omega, and whatever Nero did - well, he had to see if the Crystal Tower could help Cid now.  
  
Once the two were alone, in the ruins, Cid tried to look up at the machine. “…You don’t need to act like it’s not you, Nero,” he stated. It was really the wings which made him sure it was Nero - even with all the red. “I don’t know if you can talk, but… I don’t blame you for this. I—” damnit, even as Cid was dying, his voice was fading, gurgling. “—I don’t know how you turned this way. We’re the same, aren’t we? Pretending to be Garleans.  
  
…’m not ready to die, Nero. But looks like I don’t have a choice.” For once, Cid felt powerless - he had no energy left. Not only had the imprint G’raha left in him remained, but his clothes were melting into his body. And on his head, his goggles were doing the same. The only thing which seemed to snap him out of his dizzy slumber was a loud thunk, as his magitek arm hit the ground.  
  
Really, though - Cid couldn’t even look to it. As his body melted, as his face seemed to drip away, Cid closed his eyes, a deep painful laugh leaving his lips… before he lost conciousness, Cid swore he felt the machine - no, Nero - moving behind him. He really didn’t blame him for his condition, his body seeming to grow heavier and lighter at the same time - after all, Nero wouldn’t want him dead. Besides, that ooze had come from these alterations, before Nero went… like this - was Nero even in control? Being a giant beast tended to cloud your perceptions. If only Cid had been concerned and tried to figure out what it was - he was a fool. And now, he paid the ultimate price…

* * *

What was unexpected was the fact that Cid woke up. Not that his eyes opened - no, Cid simply felt himself shuddering a little, and he began to realise he wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t quite alive either. The cold fog seemed to descend on him, dance around him, embrace him. Still, he couldn’t seem to see anything. As he stretched further and further, Cid continued to try and find out where he was. Was this hell? No, if it was, he was sure he’d be seeing things. Eventually, as Cid stretched, he could feel… something. Moving closer to it, Cid could feel the smooth coldness of… marble. So, Cid could tell he’d been moved… somehow. Was he still that strange ooze? Was he still that thing which was dying, that thing which could be turned to metal by a fling of…  
  
…whatever had happened to Nero. There wasn’t much time to think about that. Really, Cid needed to figure out how he survived. Continuing to stretch and try and move, he soon came to a wall. Another smooth wall, a mix of marble and crystal— ah. Allagan construct. There were only a few places that Cid could think of which were this well put together - as he felt though his entire body, the ground had no chips, no blemishes. There were a few bits which felt more like glass, but he reasoned that— well, perhaps the floor here was glass, for some reason. Perhaps there was lighting? Not that he could see it. But as Cid moved across the wall, he couldn’t seem to feel a door. Around the corners of the room were pillars, supports, yes. But no doors, no cracks in the wall. Weakly, Cid slid back down… he still felt hazy, still felt weak.  
  
Until he heard a voice from above him, and tried to look upwards. G’raha—!! “I— you’re up!” G’raha chirped, his voice seeming to pierce Cid. Letting out a bubbling groan, Cid tried to pull himself into a smaller bundle. He felt so sore and… wait. G’raha was still talking. “Now, when I saw that machine holding some of that slime, I really thought the worst - but I found out some information. The translation I did was a little hasty - but apparently, it can be shaped into anything.”  
  
Tapping at… something Cid couldn’t see, G’raha continued - was he reading off of something? Cid wished he knew, he couldn’t talk, ask questions. “Let’s see… there’s a fast and a slow process, and the slow one was usually used as a substitute for bioengineering until…” G’raha trailed off, continuing to translate as Cid seemed to relax. Perhaps it was because he knew somebody else was there, or just the relief of being alive. “Here we are. Eventually, Allag lost the way to make it— how about that, even Allag lost things!” That managed to get another sound from Cid - a soft gurgle, almost like a soft river. “Anyway, I… can’t come down there easily. But you’re in a testing faculty - it’s the only place I could bring you. That machine had made a container for you, but… you’re heavy.”  
  
Not that G’raha was complaining - even without, well, whatever Cid had lost, he was still around the same weight. Though Cid couldn’t see it, G’raha sat on the glass partition - seperating the pristine testing area from the rest of the tower. Though, there was a bit where he’d broken the glass and… sort of. Poured Cid into the room. What had surprised G’raha was that the slime had absorbed the glass near-instantly. But… it looked like Cid couldn’t talk. Thinking, G’raha then shouted down to him. “If you’re hungry, let out a gurgle!”  
  
Cid gurgled. At once he was hungry and full, but perhaps eating - could he eat? He was… that same ooze which he’d seen only as pain and death. Swiftly, Cid heard G’rahas’ footsteps echo as he rushed off… again, Cid was alone. But now, he could think this over.  
  
At least, for a few minutes, until G’raha returned - holding some… well, it wasn’t the best food. But he’d also retrieved some rope - and a pulley. Quickly, the box G’raha had put the food in was lowered down - honestly, the box wasn’t one G’raha expected to be returned.  
  
Though Cid couldn’t see it, Cid could sense the food. A low, guttural gurgle came from the oozing slime, and quickly, he made his way over to the box. One thing Cid wished he could feel, though, was what exactly it was. Sure, it felt like some sort of meat, soft and squishy, and some plants as well - but as he seemed to just glide over them, they began to dissolve into him. Honestly, Cid didn’t notice that the box was dissolving under his touch as well. Once he’d finished, only the rope remained - limply dangling just above the now-still blob.  
  
“…That enough?” G’raha asked - taking Cids’ silence as a satisfied yes. “That was all I could find here about whatever you are - at least, right now,” G’raha admitted, giving a small shrug - continuing to look down at him, speaking with a small purr. “But… you’re alive and that machine is around here—”  
  
G’raha was interrupted by Cid letting out a louder sound - almost sounding like the crash of a waterfall, as the goo splashed heavily onto the ground. After a moment, G’raha - misunderstanding Cid - sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that, huh. But I can’t explain it - that guy seems to like it around here. And if we can get it to talk - I mean, if it can talk, maybe we can… fix you.” At that last part, G’raha had to hold back a slight crack in his voice - a slight fear. Fix Cid - like he was some sort of machine. If this was Allag, he might be seen that way. Though he said there was no more information, it was a lie. These ooze creatures, they were one of Amons’ favorite - at least, that’s what the book he’d found said. Though the method for their creation was lost, Amon had continued to try and find it… would all of this lead back to Amon? Truthfully, G’raha wanted to find out more. Personal journals? Other artifacts? Other then this tower, there was the legendary Azys Lla which might have this information.  
  
Cid seemed to, at least, approve of that - spreading out on the ground. “I— have work to do, Cid. Make a sound if you want to be raised up.” It took less then a moment for Cid to make noise - and, swiftly, G’raha lowered down a heavy metal container. The same one he’d been lowered down into. Though it took G’raha much longer to pull it up, Cid was soon there in front of him again. The oddest thing? Though this was a disgusting pile of ooze that used to be a Garlean, it smelled… like home. How could it? It didn’t smell like Sharlayan, but like the home G’raha would have dreamed of. A warm beach, near the sea—  
  
—he really needed to get to work. Rushing off, G’raha had soon left the corridor. Cid - knowing that if he’d been in charge that the seemingly deadly machine would be the other direction, began to propel himself across the rougher ground. Small bits of… well, not quite material used in this Era, so Cid didn’t feel comfortable naming it until he could see… were on the path, slightly absorbed as Cid slowly made his way in what he hoped was the right direction.  
  
Vibrations in the ground soon made it obvious. The machine was struggling, wherever it was, and Cid knew why. Or, at least, he thought he knew why. There was glass to climb over in that direction - but as Cid slammed to the marbled floor, a slight bit of regret vibrated though his body.  
  
“Feeling a little blue, Garlond?”  
  
The voice - Neros’ voice - didn’t come though the air. No — it was the vibrations, rattling though Cid. Of course Nero couldn’t talk - that robot didn’t seem to have a mouth, or anything. But perhaps, he could… try and talk. It was said that Voidsent had a language, including Flan… even if they had a mouth. “…Urgh.” That was a start. It took focus, though, to not just simply slide back down. Vibrations continued to echo, wordless - until Cid felt metal touching him again. Nero… he was touching him, lifting him and placing him… on him. Somewhere. Probably an arm.  
  
What could be said between the two of them? Cid had to speak up more, though. “…you did this.”  
  
“…I did,” Nero said - no snark in his voice. Could these vibrations even be snarky? “I know you’re not going to believe me, but I didn’t mean to.”  
  
Cid felt himself chuckling, for the first time since this - weary, and relaxing. “I believe you. Who’d keep you on your toes without me, hm?” Cid replied, as he tried to imagine that robot once more, in the blackness of blindness. A shimmering red, looking a little like… Omega. “Mind telling me your side of the story?”  
  
Silence and stillness lingered, until Nero began to softly rumble. “While all of you were handling what Belias did, and getting confused, and all that? I felt… something. Couldn’t control my legs after a while - almost like I was tempered,” Nero snarled. Well, while the vibrations spoke, the robot let out an angry sound, like steam being let off. “But I had to go to where my dear Omega sleeps. They weren’t awake, and then…  
  
…it hurt, Garlond,” Nero whimpered, as he began to softly slow his voice and vibrations. “My body ripped open - and I crawled out of it.” He crawled out of it, his skin seemed to melt into slime, just like how the wings had teared out of him a few weeks ago. There were no words Nero could use to explain just how painful it was - however, somehow, he didn’t feel he needed to. After all, Cid had melted in his claws. Shaking his head - to let Nero try and clear his head - he continued. “I stayed there for a day, examining what I could do - craft with what I destroyed.  
  
And then, that damned Lalafell and his crew sauntered up - looking for Omega.”  
  
Even though Cid could not see, he could feel Neros’ gaze seem to change - a heat was vibrating off of his body. “I lost my mind, Garlond. It was like Amon had his eyes on me again, and I had to protect Omega.” The fact he sounded like he was a slave to the robot didn’t escape Nero, and he was clearly uncomfortable - shying down, Cid dripping to the ground a little. The warmth from Nero, however, began to vibrate though Cid more - the slime relaxing more and more. Relaxing around Nero? Things had changed.  
  
“I killed them, Garlond - they weren’t important, were they? Treasure hunters and the like?”  
  
“…No, Nero. One of them was part of the Ul’dahn ruling class.” At first, Cid was going to comment that Nero was truly clueless - but then again, what desire would he have for politics? Well, the politics of a land he wanted to destroy. It almost felt brighter after he spoke - but Nero continued to simply vibrate and remain warm.  
  
“Really,” Nero said, “and he wanted my sweetest Omega.”  
  
“If— no, when I’m back to normal, I’m going to have to find out what makes you tic, Scaeva,” Cid then said - worry creeping into his vibrations. He couldn’t let Nero become lost to the desires of that weird artifact.  
  
And that’s when Cid could see again. The brightness had grown too thick, and he could see. Reflected off the shiny red armour, Cid could see how he looked. While his outer skin— slime glistened with a cool blue, there was a deep molten core inside him. As Cid moved to examine himself more - stretching and squishing - the core did the same. Nero remained still, letting Cid examine himself. “So, Garlond - see something you like?” Nero couldn’t help but joke, as Cid seemed to snap to look at him. At least, that’s what it looked like - there was no way to say that was his front or back. Body relaxing again, the core seemed to meld into the rest of the thick, gooey blue. More laughter could be felt in the room, Cid couldn’t help but laugh at his state. Sure, he wasn’t dead, but… how could he face the Ironworks like this? He hadn’t given himself up for scientific advancement, just… a foolish mistake.  
  
“Omega could be used to usurp the Sultana,” Cid remarked, as he continued to look over the room. White and blue, almost angelic. If it wasn’t for the cracks with small forgotten plants sprouting, it’d look quite wonderful. “And to conquer Eorzea, since it sealed Bahamut.” Which is one reason Cid was worried about Neros’ obsession.  
  
Softly, Nero seemed to lower his body more - flat on the ground, even if he was a massive construct. “…Garlond, do you remember what G’raha was reading before my wings sprouted? —Ah, right, you weren’t there at that time. A pity - it was quite the interesting passage.”  
  
Cid seemed to rise - curious, as Nero remained low. They were, well, eye to eye. For once. “In order to slay the Weapon, and stop their Heart, a Blade made of Allagan technology was crafted by the grand Amon. To demonstrate it, Amon went to strike the Children of Omega,” Nero repeated. “The blade was the one that injured me in that battle… think about it, Garlond. Alpupus - it’s a bloody _pun_ , in Allagan.”  
  
Nero waited for Cid to get it - and within the minute he did. Alpha Child. The Beginning Child…!!  
  
“…Seven hells. You’re one of the Children of Omega,” Cid whispered. Of course, at first, he could have called it a metaphor if he hadn’t seen what Nero looked like… and his abilities. Nero tol Scaeva… somehow, Omega had children, and Nero was one of them.

* * *

G’raha Tia had gotten back to work - though he still wanted to watch Cid, there were a lot of tomes of knowledge. Hopefully, one of them would have more information on the use of the testing faculties, and if it was connected to Amons’ ooze. He’d collected a few to take back to the chambers - that is, until he could feel the vibrations.  
  
That machine might have begun to move again. Ears pressed to the back of his head, G’raha slipped the books into his side back, and warily began to make his way back down the corridors. Speeding up, soon G’raha was over atthe enclosure…  
  
…and he saw it. The resting vibrating automation, with the slime which was Cid softly bubbling across one of its’ arms. As G’raha skidded to a stop, Cid shifted - lifting himself up, turning to face G’raha with the softness inside him. A moment passed, before G’raha sat on the glass again. “Cid— I was worried,” G’raha mumbled - interrupted when one claw from the automation lifted to him. Cautiously, G’raha climbed onto it, after giving a soft little pet to the claw. Carefully setting G’raha on the oddly comfortable ground, Nero softly grumbled, vibrating at Cid again.  
  
“He can’t understand, Garlond,” Nero explained, “and neither could you. This is a poor excuse for language.” Even as Nero vibrated, though, Cid was thinking. Nero didn’t have a mouth, no. Nor did he seem to have any form of vocalization - even if there was Allagan devices which did, this… Child of Omega… had to have a way to communicate.  
  
Now, Cid didn’t know much about G’raha. Not as well as he’d like to. But as he gazed from G’rahas piercing red Allagan eyes, to the pouch… hm. “Scaeva. You can craft out of this, can’t you?” he asked. Not just him, but… Nero let out an affermitive grumble, and Cid looked around. While this room was bigger, it wasn’t as well maintained as the others. There was quite a bit of rubble… perhaps that would suit it. “Wait with G’raha. I’ll… consume that.”  
  
“Wait,” Nero rumbled, “I could simply change it as it is—”  
  
Cid seemed to flicker a little. “I have something I want to see as well. Besides - you’ll be able to re-use part of me, won’t you?” Cid said, before moving off of the machine - G’raha watching the two cautiously. As Cid moved, so did G’raha - until he saw Cid settling on the rubble. He was still hungry…? Placing himself between the two, G’raha got out one of the books.  
  
It did not take long for the robot to loom over him - G’raha closing the cover once more to look at it. No, not just look at it - G’raha put a hand to his bow, brows furrowing. Tail whipping. And yet, the robot simply lingered over him - a gentle glow coming from the helm. Neither of them made a move until G’raha could hear the bubbling again. It was Cid - he was dissolving the rubble. Huh… that could have been analyzed to see exactly how long it’d been broken off, but whatever Cid had planned was, hopefully, worth the cost. Eventually, G’raha made the first move - re-opening the book. It was an Allagan-approved history book - alongside a quill and his own journal - huh. Translating the book and seeking out certain passages - if G’raha could note a general time period these creatures were made (if the stories of the Children of Omega were found in more common books, they’d be in the history books, right?) then perhaps he could know where else to look.  
  
It seemed like a long time passed, for both Nero and Cid. Nero remained sitting over G’raha, picking up bits and pieces. Another late Allagan book, but this one seemed to be the sort which would be read by nobles and their kin. Much less lying about the true state of the Empire, and a lot more gloating about destruction of rebellions. He, too, was curious to where… he fit in. Normally, G’raha started at the end of these books - this one was one published soon before the rise of Dalamud, it seemed. And that meant it might make mention of subduing the beast. The light from the automation was actually a little helpful to G’raha - not every light in this containment seemed to be working. For a tower stuck in time, this area hadn’t been maintained very well… or something had happened here.  
  
G’raha seemed to stop, however, at a page with an illustration. The caption - it was an image of Amon, one of the few that would have ever been seen. The man who was shown, however, hatless for once - it looked just like Nero tol Scaeva. Before all of this. He had deep blue eyes, and even the same haircut. The robot began to back up, whining, trying not to look— huh.  
  
Nero backed away, averting his gaze - his robotic body trembling. Clueless, just like G’raha, Nero didn’t want to think about that. He was a Child of Omega - but looked just like Amon? There were a few things he could consider, most of them either gross or illogical…  
  
…but his fear was interrupted by the touch of Cid, that cooling liquid once more. Nero craned his neck to look to the slime. “What’s the plan, then? You get me to craft you into… what, exactly?” Nero asked - finally managing to vibrate and talk to him again.  
  
“…A letter,” Cid stated, looking to G’raha. “If you can create anything, then a letter should be easy - though it might take some focus. Don’t use all of me - we don’t know how… how much we can use.  
  
I don’t want to die, Scaeva.”  
  
Both of them - Cid and Nero - had finally let themselves show how scared they both were. That was… rare for Garleans. For once, Nero didn’t laugh at Cid - instead, he moved to separate some of the ooze, cutting it from the tail of the ooze. Deftly, Nero tried to focus. This was like Alchemy… simply focus on what he wanted. The first attempt did not go well - sure, he formed… something. But it was little more then a metallic sheet, with no markings.  
  
As Nero continued to throw his failed attempts into Cid and tried again and again, G’raha looked up from his book - they were noisy, bubbling and vibrating at each other. Arguing? Or simply talking. Softly, he couldn’t help but smile a little - it was cute. Sure, one of them was formerly Cid, but… somehow, it reminded him of times before this. After a few moments, however, he needed to continue the translation. After all, this seemed to be it.  
  
More time passed, and eventually, the sounds stopped - replaced by the soft footsteps of the robot, as it dropped a piece of paper for G’raha. It looked as if it was written on… no, it looked more like the letters were part of the paper. Either way, G’raha began to read it… before freezing.

‘Dear ‘raha,  
  
Firstly, I am Nero tol Scaeva - stuck as this robot, I’m afraid to say. Secondly, Cid still has his mind - he’s as annoying as always.  
  
I don’t know how well this will transfer on - for once, I’m the clueless one. How tragic. But I think I’m one of the Children of Omega you read about. That doesn’t excuse the voices telling me to protect Omega, mind you. Nor does it excuse how I look - if you and Cid could work together on fixing that?  
  
Don’t tell Cid this part, but most likely, I can turn him back to some form of simulation of his former Garlean form - of course, I’ll be trying it. He doesn’t deserve to be stuck as this - it’s pathetic.  
  
Yours,  
  
Nero tol Scaeva.  
  
P.S: I cannot speak either - if you can’t turn me back straight away? Fix that, at least.’

It took less then a moment until G’raha jumped at the robot, giving Nero a soft hold. Awkwardly, Nero tried to hold him with the other - trying to be so very gentle. But G’raha grinned. “So - you were trying to read alongside me again? Since you’re a master translator, you two mind helping?” Really, inside, G’raha was still processing this - as Cid moved over to the letter to dissolve it - and he was simply trying to focus on what he could do.  
  
Nero rumbled, nodding. G’raha opened the page, and Nero began to read - the robot beginning to tremble again. No. Nero could do this. Separating some of Cid again, Nero began to form the translation of what mattered - another page, with another illustration. Amon stood proudly above a robot, one which had been garbed in blue.

‘  
  
There has only been one case of failure in the process of creation that Lord Amon has experienced. Omega had gifted him with an egg, which was to hatch into another Omega. However - fitting for the best of Allag - Amon found it fitting to manipulate the body into the form of an Allagan resident. Since Amon had no time for a family, he turned this child into a replica of himself.  
  
After the creation of this Child of Omega, it was only shown once in public, to answer questions and quell rebellion. However, it could not answer without having its' own free will, and vanished from the public eye. When asked about it, Amon refused to answer…’

  
Nero whined, as the translation fell from his claw. Cid looked to it as well, the warm glow from within him seeming to burn warm. G’raha picked it up, reading it out loud… covering his mouth. His tail swishing, G’raha shook his head. “…We need to find Amons’ journal. Or research notes, or— anything. But— before then.” Turning to face the two, G’raha sighed. “Nero, how long do you think that thing’ll take?”  
  
Nero let out a soft groan. He… didn’t know, but probably a while? At the drooping robot, G’raha nodded to himself. “How about we take a break for now - you could… use some time.”


	20. Chapter 20

The long trek across Dravanian territory had almost felt nostalgic for a lot of the Scions. Not only did it remind them of when they were simply Archon, but it reminded them of their own journeys even before then. Of course, it wasn’t just those who were known as Archon who were in the group - it was also Bolormaa and Alisaie. Alisaie walked near the front with Moenbryda, chatting axe care - while Bolormaa remained near to Thancred, who kept an eye on Papalymo, Lyse, Y’shtola and Urianger. Each of them had suffered so much before… and yet, everybody was laughing and joking around. Perhaps this… whatever it was, perhaps it wasn’t too bad.  
  
Then again, there were the weird crystal growths and the fact Minfilia had vanished. And that echo he’d had - a sacrifice was worth the cost. Was it Minfilia? Or… it could have been another. Everybody here had sacrificed something - from life, to sight, to identity. He still wondered what it meant. Who had been the sacrifice? Grasping his hand into a fist, slightly rubbing his hands against the material, Thancred sighed.  
  
The group, however, all felt that it was strange… there were no enemies around, monsters seemed to be hiding from them. Sure, there were corpses. But they were not picked at, they were simply littered around. At least they could ignore them, as they got to the old stairs up to the Great Gubal Library. But—  
  
“…Is it just me, or shouldn’t it be locked up?” Moenbryda said, as she approached the slightly ajar massive doors. Big enough for a person to slip though - no, a little bigger. “Anybody here know about why it’s open?”  
  
Y’shtola let out a harsh tsk, approaching and placing her hands to the door. “…The wards should not have been disabled - only Matoya knows the spell. And even then, she wouldn’t have a reason to enter.” After pausing slightly, Y’shtola bit her lower lip - looking to Papalymo. “Unless she became aware of the time travel.”  
  
Papalymo gave a little huff. “If we couldn’t figure it out without the touch of a maybe-Primal, I doubt the old coot knows anything. That’s why we’re not going to her.” This, too, was something Thancred had missed. But… it was true. Except…  
  
“…I was awoken by Lahabrea, and you and Lyse were awoken by Ramuh. But— who woke up Moenbryda and Urianger? And you, Y’shtola,” Thancred asked - stopping in front of the opening. It had been proven that it was the power of an Ascian or a Primal— primal-like being who awoke people.  
  
It was Y’shtola who spoke first, her tail swishing. “I was awoken by help from Golbez,” she explained. “When they travel between iterations, they keep their memories. As a former ally of mine, he used the power of the Shadow Dragon—”  
  
“Hold up!” Lyse interrupted, softly frowning. “Another dragon?!”  
  
Y’shtola nodded. “It is not a Dragon like those of the First Brood. The two of them are allies. It is able to break barriers between realms - but those abilities are only used to restore memories. Else it could end an iteration early, and…” Trailing off, Y’shtola nodded to herself again - trying to grip her hands tighter together. “That is not good for anybody.”  
  
That answered one, but… Thancred looked to Moenbryda, softly - reaching out a hand for her crystal-tainted ones. Moenbryda, however, didn’t take his - instead gesturing a little. “We can talk and walk, right?” she said, shaking her head a little. That was true, but…  
  
…who was she protecting?

* * *

The Great Gubal Library had been abandoned for so very long - the magic still lingered, as did a few of the beasts created to protect it. But… there was a clear trail of ink. At least, the group thought it was ink. It was black and thick, at least, staining the ground and nearby walls. Luckily, the two axe-users could cleave though - with the others cleaning up. That is, until a chirp echoed.  
  
Now, chirps were common in the old days. Skatene were, after all, common inside. But they had grown, and this was more of a screech. Lyse looked to the group - before Papalymo spoke up. “That’s a grown-up Skatene, wherever it is. Odd - if the library was sealed for so long, then…”  
  
“Clearly,” Lyse said, “it ate books! You’re always saying knowledge is tasty!”  
  
“…Power. Knowledge is power. And besides, that wouldn’t keep anything alive— especially not a Cloudkin that big.” Pausing, Papalymo nodded to Lyse. If it wasn’t books, could it be… other Skatene? They’re not meat eaters either…  
  
“It broke in,” Y’shtola said - oddly drained of any snark. No, her fingers danced with magic - unfamiliar magic. Before any of them had a chance to ask, Y’shtola continued. “A spell from the third iteration - Onion Knight showed me, and insisted I learned. It exposes the aether of nearby creatures - and that sound is not coming from a Skatene.”  
  
What it was coming from was something that Y’shtola couldn’t quite tell, however - it glowed brighter then even Primal she’d tried this spell with. Glancing back to the group, her eyes seemed hollow for a moment - before suddenly, she was tackle hugged by Lyse. “You don’t need to do that for us - don’t hurt yourself, ‘shtola!” Lyse stated, looking straight at her. Y’shtola softly placed an arm around her - giving Lyse the softest of smiles, as the magic vanished from around her.  
  
As the two bundled closer, though, Y’shtola standing and putting on a brave face, Alisaie looked between Moenbryda and Urianger. Moenbryda had begun to examine her hands again. It’d grown heavier - the crystals had almost seemed to replace the skin, seeping in. For a moment, Moenbryda seemed to ponder if she should talk - before Bolormaa approached. “…We need to keep going. You and Urianger came here as children, did you not?”  
  
“Yeah - it was our romantic hangout. Hey, Uri?”  
  
Urianger looked to Moenbryda, nodding to himself. “We seek tomes on time magic… but it may not be simple. It is forbidden for good reason - and as such, has many protections on it.” Urianger knew well - because he wanted to study it, even before he was taken in by Elidibus. But now, if he were to mention those spells… Y’shtola would be onto him. Perhaps she would end him? If they had time later, he might try and explain to Moenbryda. Or perhaps this gentle creature, Bolormaa… whatever she was.  
  
As they listened to what he said, the group began to follow Urianger - noting that the ink-like substance seemed to be splattered more and more. Casually, Y’shtola used Libra again - the spell she’d been taught. It was common in other worlds - and easy to pick up. Oddly enough, she could have taken some of that weird Materia to learn more - but, really, she preferred her own skills. Though, since Urianger had gone silent? Moenbryda continued for him.  
  
“There’s a lot of forbidden wards, especially when you’re the kid of a diplomat or some orphan,” she casually said, “but Urianger was pretty good at sneaking into them. But some of them were ultra forbidden? And it didn’t matter how much we wanted in, he’d come back nearly cryin—”  
  
“—Moenbryda,” Urianger grumbled, trying to pull his hood over his face even more - a soft blush covering his cheeks. “We had only until our adulthood to wait, but… the exodus meant we’d not return - even if our situation differed,” he added, slowly navigating the maze-like passage of books and stilled familiars. Feathers were mixed in - black and… a deep yellow? Almost like a Chocobo.  
  
Alisaie, between the two - couldn’t help but gaze at all the titles. “…Grandfather told me of this library. I hoped to visit someday,” she admitted, claws beginning to drag across the books. If only she could take them all, and study whatever they held! But, to be fair, she needed to make sure her brother was fine, and return to being Elezen. If the situation which brought them here wasn’t so dire, she’d ask if she could return another time.  
  
…She’d ask after they left.

* * *

Soon, the path came to a broken open door - and, in front of it, was a small creature. At first, it could be mistaken for a baby Chocobo - but it was far too feathered. And dog-sized - with four claws dug into the ground. And, oh boy, it was letting out soft whimpers. It was Thancred who approached - those were no whimpers. Letting his head wings unfurl, Thancred frowned. A child…? The cries were so very similar to the sort he made when he was so very small.  
  
Removing one of his gloves, he let the small strange creature scamper towards him, nuzzling into his arm. It didn’t seem to have words - but Thancred began to chirp at it, trying to stop it whining. Bolormaa moved behind him - her blade put away, as she watched the two. “Thancred…?”  
  
Softly, Thancred looked back to her. “It’s the first passive creature we’ve found - and it’s not even bloody. Whatever we’re up against, it spared a child…” In other words, Thancred thought it might be a sign. Either this was spared by hiding (not likely, from the golden feathers and the eyes and… freckles? Freckles spotted around an eye mask, which glowed like the sun.) or…  
  
Before he could think more, a loud screech filled the area - the door shattering, as an oversized Skatene broke though - fluttering in the air, talons breaking the wood and magic both in a single swoop. “It— that’s the creature!” Y’shtola cried out, putting up a Protect around the group. It broke wards without trying - within moments, Moenbryda had moved to axe it - leaving a mark on one of its’ talons.  
  
The mark vanished after a single moment, covered in the same inky blackness - even if some dripped to the ground, it wrapped around the injury and filled it. The smaller golden bird-like beast let out nasty hisses at the group - directed at Moenbryda. “Damn you—” Moenbryda muttered, as Lyse nodded to her.  
  
“Give me a boost, Moenbryda!” Lyse said - jumping at her. Within a moment, the glamoured Hyur jumped off of her friend and at the owlesque creature. Gripping to it, Lyse punched at the wings of the creature - but it screeched, and Lyse fell… her glamour vanishing, the small Sylph dropping harshly to the ground. Bouncing slightly, Y’shtola rushed over - beginning to pump magic into her.  
  
As the group focused on the Sylph, however, the attacker landed by the small creature. Hoping they were distracted, it approached it with soft purrs. That is, until Thancred replied with his own bird sounds. “…What are you doing here?” Thancred asked, as he took off his other glove - the golden creature looking between him and the… Skatene?  
  
The Skatene replied, defensively, in harsh tones. “My children. They are sick. Time shattered, and harmed my Smallest.” Pausing, they stepped a little closer to Thancred and Bolormaa. “He is sensitive.”  
  
Thancred placed a talon to the creature - the son of this Skatene? He looked nothing like an owl, but… “You broke the wards here,” Thancred stated. “What are you?”  
  
His questions grew shorter and shorter, as the golden creature scurried towards his mother - beginning to climb up the large owl, to check on where the wounds had healed. “…A god from a world faded. We are known as Venat. There is knowledge here which—”  
  
“—explains the time manipulation?” Thancred finished, looking up at this Venat creature. A god. Even true gods wanted to be in on this.  
  
Venat chirped, looking to the pained Sylph - and then approached. Of course, Moenbryda raised her axe - before Thancred spoke up. “She’s a fair lady - she wants to take care of her children, that’s all,” he explained - preening up a little. “And I suppose she was afraid for her little one— Lyse?”  
  
Venat approached Lyse, before another creature seemed to emerge from hiding, slinking though the shadows - almost like a kite. Though it looked more owl-like, it had rainbow-tipped feathers and a more Hyur-like expression. Oh, and far too many singular claws jutting out from it. Gently, it landed by the Sylph - before it began to shake. As it shook off, what felt like a soft curative spell came from it.  
  
While that went on, though, Thancred had to shield his eyes - well, not his eyes. The crystal near to them was stinging at the touch of this magic - wait. This might be a chance— this godly owl was right there. “Venat - do you know about these crystal growths? Urianger said they were… marks of our sins, from a future yet to be changed.” As soon as Thancred finished speaking, the owl-esque creature leaned down to examine them - before staring harder. Thancred couldn’t help but flinch as their beak grew closer, rubbing his flesh and crystal both.  
  
When Venat spoke, however, it was oddly soft. “…They’re from a side-effect of— I know what spell afflicted this land.” Venat looked to the group - to the healed Sylph who whined, to the Miqo’te who tried to understand their chirps - to even their smaller dog-sized son, who had moved from their feathers to the man known as Urianger (for his part, Urianger thought this creature was familiar - but the one he knew was less bright, and a lot smaller). Softly, Venat switched to speaking their tongue… for this was something they feared, and which should only be explained once.  
  
“…Return.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Return?”  
  
The group of Thancred, Bolormaa, Y’shtola, Papalymo, Lyse, Alisaie, Moenbryda and Urianger - alongside the large owl-esque Venat and their two glowing children - had turned their attention to that single word. Y’shtola had asked - Return. The spell was just one which returned you to your most aligned Aetheryte, wasn’t it… unless… “Another iteration.”  
  
Venat nodded, softly fluffing up - so that they looked less threatening, even as they loomed over the group. “The fifth - and modified in the eighth by Ultimecia, to bring on Time Compression.”  
  
Papalymo tilted his head. “Time Compression?” he asked - that sounded nasty. But as the Skatene glared, he felt as if answers weren’t coming…  
  
…until Urianger cleared his throat. “The ability to turn all time to a single moment - that is Time Compression. Only those with strong magic or strong connections may survive in that realm afflicted,” Urianger said, before regretting it straight away - it felt as if everybodys’ eyes were on him. “…Moenbryda, you knew my truth.  
  
I hath used Return, to bring upon this new timeline. However… I meant not for it to go this far.”  
  
“…Urianger,” Moenbryda said, the first to talk. Stopping the others from judging him - defending him as she was used to. But… “Tell us the whole story. Why did you do it— how?”  
  
Urianger let out a deep breath. “…Until my tale finishes, please do not— do not question me.” Sharply inhaling, Urianger began…

* * *

Papalymo was dead. Minfilia was taken by the Mothercrystal - and Y’shtola was blinded. Thancred was forever scarred - and Lyse… well, she was the least harmed by his very actions, to save the First. Even now, as Alisaie and Alphinaud were off bonding the smallest bit, Urianger couldn’t focus. When he couldn’t focus, Urianger tended to take walks - outside of the Waking Sands, towards the abandoned Castrum. It was quiet, and he couldn’t be found.  
  
Except, of course, by Elidibus. It had been at least a bell until the Ascian cloaked in white appeared, right behind him, gently landing on the dirt. “…What a pity. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are quite shattered, aren’t they?”  
  
Urianger looked upwards, to glance at the masked Ascian - before pulling his cloak over his face, not giving him any answer. “And now, Omega awakens, as does a mockery of Shinryu. I brought another prophecy which may interest you, traitor to all.” Just the way Elidibus said it - with a genuine smile - made Urianger unable to hold back a shiver.  
  
“…I despair for what I hath done. What else may you force me to do, as the cruelest of puppeteer?” Urianger replied, as Elidibus handed over the strangest bit of paper - a copy of an old book page, with a translation into Eorzean written so very neatly. Elidibus had oddly neat handwriting for whatever he was.  
  
‘ _The Lion-Tipped Witch faltered, time flowing true;_  
_The Eighth World continued;_  
_But Dark claimed Light, and the Dragon Consumed;_  
  
_With the Fiery Truth;_  
_Burn away the Evils of the Worlds;_  
_With the Fiery Truth;_  
_Light the Darkness of the Worlds;_  
_With the Firey Truth;_  
_End the Dragon of the Worlds._ ’  
  
As Urianger read it out loud, Elidibus sat near to him - softly frowning. “I required you to see the worlds Zodiark came from… so I could show you this.  
  
Our world is a fragment of what existed before Hyadalyn and Zodiark did. Have you not noticed that many prophecies bring up a Dragon of the Worlds?”  
  
Though Urianger didn’t want to admit it, Elidibus was right. His hands rubbed over the parchment, before he spoke up. “You gifted a man the Eye of Nidhogg - for no living could replevy those cursed orbs. Now - you patter about a Dragon of the Worlds?”  
  
While Urianger spoke, Elidibus got out an oddly dull crystal - nearly smoothed to an orb itself. “You may not believe me, Urianger, but I did not aim for even a fragment of that beast,” Elidibus said - pawing over the orb, before offering it to Urianger. After a moment, Elidibus continued - even as Urianger didn’t take it. “Once Shinryu enters this star, both Hydaelyn and Zodiark shall perish - even your Source will be taken.”

* * *

Urianger found himself trailing off as he explained, as the grip of the Sylph of the group became unable to ignore. Or was that the leaves slapping him? “It’s not Papalymos’ fault!!” she cried, as she continued to slap the Elezen. Urianger frowned - looking from her to Papalymo, who seemed to have the same question on his trembling lips. Urianger sighed - he needed to clear the air.  
  
“…The Shinyru that Elidibus spoke of is not the same as Papalymo. He was turned to a symbol of strength, not—” Urianger began, before the large Venat continued - putting a wing out over Papalymo.  
  
Looking up a little, the older Lalafell couldn’t help but sniffle. Venat brought him closer, chirping in Eorzean. “Shinryu is an ancient threat, with powers unable to be replicated by any single iteration - even with rumours of a child. I did not sense that being, before or after the Return.”  
  
As if to make their point clearer, Venat seemed to flicker with energy - energy which made everybody stare. Even the child who clung from Urianger seemed to flinch, as Venat glowed a dull blue. It faded, and Venat looked down to Papalymo. “With our power, we are above the being that was called Shinryu. Omega, no - we are glad it did not sense us.”  
  
Urianger let out a soft grunt - now that was over, he wanted to continue. Continue to talk about what happened… why he did it.

* * *

“…You yearn for Zodiark to not succumb to nothingness,” Urianger said, as he looked out to the sea from Thanalan. Biting his lip, Urianger leaned back - before feeling the rough robes of Elidibus almost hugging him. “Yet - you disrupt the Source. Why?”  
  
Elidibus half-shrugged, half-sighed. “This game tires me, Urianger. Time is breaking, and soon, it shall perish. Shinryu tries to penetrate, at sign of their mortal enemy and a mimicry of their shell. Before, it was not Shinryu who was conjured from the pain of that focused Ala Mhigan.”  
  
Though Urianger wanted to ask why, and what he meant by before, but a pain seemed to begin to vibrate in his stomach. Elidibus held the crystal so very close to Urianger - whatever it was, it was full of Aether - much more then even a Dragons’ eye, or that White Auracite could manipulate. Even from this distance, he could feel it ever so slightly tearing at his form. “This can bring you what is desired, Urianger. For both of us. I can no longer channel the magic within - it will not work for one less then a Warrior of Light.”  
  
In that moment - Urianger seemed to stare. At Elidibus, who’d removed his mask to show his paled blue eyes, his long white hair draping over him. But Urianger shook his head. “The Warrior of Light is not I—”  
  
“…You are more Light then I am now.” Elidibus seemed tired, if only for a moment, as he let his hood slide back to show his slightly spiked hair, silvering and long. Placing the crystal on Urianger, Elidibus whispered. “One life for one world. Return shall turn time back, and shall forget what has happened.”  
  
“…To prevent Shinryu from sensing it?” Urianger asked, as he placed a finger to it. If he used this magic… he’d die, wouldn’t he. He’d die. But, on the other hand… so many had died for his own desires. Closing his eyes, Urianger nodded to Elidibus. He’d been convinced. Standing up shakily, Urianger could feel it draining him. It would take all his focus to use this— to focus on turning time backwards.  
  
What Elidibus had not expected, however, was that Urianger would let him ambition get to him. Urianger would not simply reverse it to before the Eyes of Nidhogg were used, or even to when the Warrior of Light awoke. If he was to die, he would go as far back as possible. Now, Elidibus knew that he’d be able to survive the time going backwards - after all, he was not of this iteration, or this shard. As events flowed around him, though, Elidibus vanished - to watch from afar. People awoke, and were sent back.  
  
Return had been cast, and it had taken Urianger with him.

* * *

That is, until Urianger felt something clawing at him. The soft sound of lapping waves filled his ears - just where was he? Wherever he was, Urianger was not ready to die. Whatever gripped to him seemed to be struggling to keep alive, struggling to hold on.  
  
A voice seemed to echo though his head - he should return. This isn’t his fate - he sacrificed it all. He’s still needed - what would come of the world if he was dead? Whoever spoke, whoever gave him these thoughts, it was not something or someone he was familiar with.  
  
But Urianger couldn’t speak. His lips were full of— well, they weren’t full of anything, but the words didn’t seem to come. He wasn’t strong enough - a lot of his aether had been used to cast this spell. How did he still exist…?  
  
Another who lost most of their soul had washed up here, when time went backwards. Those here were… familiar with paradoxes. A hand softly touched him, and kept their hand on him. It wasn’t the one projecting these thoughts into his head. No, that voice was more masculine - this hand was feminine.  
  
It’s his choice to stay or return, but those in his world will miss him - those who he revived. Him and the other washed up would need to become one soul…  
  
…but, as Urianger heard these thoughts, he… agreed. He wanted to go back. Slightly opening his eyes, he looked up to the one touching him - she looked like a young lady, with a deep blue hair piercing though his faded vision, and queer garb he’d never quite seen before. She neither smiled nor frowned as Uriangers’ vision faded again.  
  
That is, before his head was filled with memories of another. Well, another until they fused with his. The memories of the Ascian Nabriales - the other who couldn’t quite come back right. The two of them were one… and with that, Urianger woke as a child again. This was as far back as he could pull - a little before the Garlean invasion of Ala Mhigo, and the fall of it. Ascian were those who held memories of the old world, and could restore it - and thusly, Urianger remembered. But he was no longer Urianger… he’d lost his life.  
  
His sacrifice was worth it, though, as the world grew different. Sure, he’d noticed that some people had been reborn differently - he was one of the few who remembered Thancred as a Hyur, or Lyse as… a Hyur as well - but he could no longer let regrets hold him back. This new timeline was a chance… to wrong some rights. Even if, truly, he couldn’t show his hand nor stop Louisoix from perishing - some events were ones that no one man could alter.  
  
This had been what he had hidden. What he had done, with his magic.

* * *

As Urianger finished talking, he’d not noticed he’d begun to cry - soft tears falling onto the golden-feathered creature. Silence seemed to echo though the all too large library for quite some time - until shakily, Y’shtola stood.  
  
“…I— Elidibus was— I need to go,” she said, barely letting a moment pass before she’d teleported off. Urianger slumped further, a tiredness covering him - until suddenly, hands wrapped around his leg. Lyse still hadn’t put her glamour up. Looking down to her, she was smiling—  
  
And then another pair of arms wrapped around him. Moenbryda softly kissed him on the cheek, as Thancred moved to place at least a hand on him. Bolormaa moved to hold him as well, before Papalymo moved to sit on his lap - giving him affection in his own way. Alisaie looked to the group - looked from Urianger, to the cuddle pile - before she was pulled in by Moenbryda, gripping to the Roegadyn. A hearty laugh seemed to come from Venat, looking at this.  
  
“…Your sacrifice was worth the cost,” Thancred whispered. “That— I heard it in that Echo I had,” he said. But it wasn’t… it wasn’t a strange blue-haired lady or her mysterious man who said it. Things were falling into place, and still felt so very confusing. Softly, he rubbed one of his talons at Uriangers’ tears. “You keep trying to do your best, and you keep going far too far.”  
  
“It wouldn’t be our Urianger without that!” Moenbryda beamed, bringing him closer. “It only took my death and rebirth for him to finally become my boyfriend.” But softly, Moenbryda began to rub up and down his body, as Urianger began to cry. He’d hid it for so long, and nobody seemed to… be scared? Hate it? And so, Urianger cried.  
  
Time passed, and soon, Urianger had grown quiet and tired. But… “Venat,” Bolormaa said, calmly looking up to the owl. “We came here to seek knowledge on this… Return. Did you come for that to?” As Venat nodded, Bolormaa tried to look as confident as she could. “R-right. Then, can we remain here with you? Urianger needs his rest, and—”  
  
“You may,” Venat said, before Bolormaa even finished. Venat sat, and Urianger rested against their feathers. A chill seemed to blow though the library, as more Scion nuzzled into the beast.  
  
Thancred, however, couldn’t rest. Chirping in birdsong, he looked to Venat. “If you’re a God, what could you seek in this library that you couldn’t get elsewhere?”  
  
Fluffing themselves up, Venat looked to the now-resting beings on their feathers. Sure, Alisaie was trying to understand the birdsong, but perhaps Thancred felt it was… inappropriate? Huh. “It is not Gods who should abuse their power. But… there is an area, close, which connects to the God of this realm. I need to question Her.”  
  
The god— Hydaelyn. Hydaelyn could be reached from here?! Thancred felt his whole body tense, as he glanced to Bolormaa. “—I need to see her, too. Minfilia— she gave herself to the Mothercrystal before Return.  
  
I— don’t understand what happened. I need to ask her, Venat. And I can ask what you want, too—”  
  
Venat let out a soft cooing at Thancred. “Time flows strangely, in that corridor - that ward. It is a ward of Time Magic studies - from what my Son of the Skies has told me. It is… dangerous.” And yet, from the way Thancred gazed at them, Venat… knew. This man was one who mourned. Not just that, but… softly, Venat offered one of their wings. “Stay for the night, at the very least. We can… all discuss what to do.”  
  
After all - they didn’t want to do anything rash. Besides, if Thancred was to go to such a dangerous place, where Time Magic was taught and wrapped around words, Venat thought… the group needed to say their goodbyes.  
  
Who knew if he’d return before… well… Shinryu did?


	22. Chapter 22

Now, why had Y’shtola rushed off? The ways Urianger described Elidibus was hauntingly familiar, from her time inside the realm where she battled alongside Warriors of Light and true Heroes. And one of them, one who’d remained fighting for their Goddess Cosmos, even when she faded…?   
  
He looked just like the man under the mask that Urianger described.   
  
In the Rising Stones, Golbez had removed his armour, letting the dragon fused into their skin free. It was something that Golbez had gotten used to - just another punishment for his duties, his eternal crimes. Though, really, it was truly just being locked into his EX mode - the two of them being one, the hunger felt by both, being both monster and man. It was… fitting. Had any of them who had these modes that shifted them found a way to break them? That was something Golbez had never asked, in the realm between - for Golbez couldn’t rest. Looking up as the doors opened, they gave a firm nod to Y’shtola.   
  
“—It’s the Warrior of Light!” Y’shtola said, half-out of breath. Her tail flicked, her arms trembled as they settled on a table. Casually, Golbez grabbed them both drinks - until the words hit him.   
  
“Who?” Golbez asked, as the wine was poured - fingers gripping to the bottle so very tightly.   
  
Y’shtola looked them in the eyes, fists tightening. “The Emissary of the Ascian - Elidibus. He tempted Urianger into casting Return— and he is the Warrior of Light - the one from the Cycles.” Ever since this had begun - iterations and cycles - many of those who had survived the Cycles under Shinryu had wondered where he was. After all, the Warrior of Light was one of the few who’d believed in ending this all - saving everybody.   
  
Sipping at their wine, Golbez shook their head, the dragon fused with him seeming to hiss the slightest bit. “Even paragon fall to darkness - but… it would make sense. The Warrior of Light always battled to save everybody.”   
  
“And how does that make sense? The Ascian wish to destroy shards,” Y’shtola reminded Golbez. “That isn’t saving them.”   
  
“…What I do is no better, Y’shtola. Their worlds end, and they drift away. My brother still sleeps.” Much guilt weighed on Golbez - that much was true. Really, when didn’t it? Even after what would be longer then the natural lifespan of a Lunarian, half or not, Golbez carried the weight of his sins - and the sins of the dragon fused into him - heavily. Still… “Those who awake have still lose their planets, their homes.”   
  
The term planet was strange to Y’shtola, but it seemed common to these other realms and stars. Her tail flicked again, as her ears were pressed to her head. “It was the pleas of the Warrior of Light that awoke the Creator, or so it seems,” she said, “and then the Creator began to devour worlds.   
  
Have you seen them in other iterations, Golbez?”   
  
A silence echoed though the room, the two sitting there as Golbez seemed to be deep in a broken thought. "...No," they finally admitted, the man petting at the dragon. "Only in the fourth." Quietly, Golbez sipped at their drink, hissing. How could they be so blinded by what happened to their world?! But, then… at the end of those other worlds… “A large moon still appears to dying worlds. You have not seen it, but I have. But it is after—   
  
—all those who live in the realm have fallen to slumber.” As if something had just registered for Golbez, they seemed to freeze. Golbez only left once those souls had found their way to safety, in the World of Slumber. And… if… that ship came once their souls were ready, then… they’d had it all wrong. “That moon comes to save them, Y’shtola.”   
  
Y’shtola had the same thoughts - even if it was quite an uneasy thought. Dalamud fell to destroy, and another moon came as a savior? It felt wrong, but on the other hand, there were so many who showed that as a truth. Quietly, Y’shtola began to consume her own drink. “It may. That leads to another question - we don’t know who does it - or why.”   
  
After a moment, she continued. “We could be playing into a trap.”   
  
“If you were, you’d know it,” a voice echoed though the Rising Stones, from behind them. Turning harshly, Tataru stood by them, holding biscuits. “I trust you, Y’shtola - even if I don’t know much about this Conflict.” Though Tataru was one of the few who spoke closely with Elidibus, she was unfamiliar with even his true goals. Placing the tray she held down, Tataru gave a little bow. “Besides. If it was a threat, it wouldn’t be keeping all these people alive - now would it?”   
  
She had a point, and Golbez nodded - softly examining the Lalafell. “Thank you, Tataru. They are not held as hostages - in that World of Slumber, many are awake - living and growing. Someday, I hope I am worthy to join them…”   
  
Y’shtola couldn’t help but think, though, that Golbez was already worthy. A tiredness and weariness from examining so many fallen lands? What kind of man was he before, for him not to feel like he could return to people?   
  
…The answer was something she would find out later, or so she hoped. “Before Eorzea dies, we need to locate Elidibus and ask him why.”   
  
At that, though, Tataru nodded to herself. Giving a slight hand wave - she was still cleaning, after all - she wandered off. If they needed Elidibus? She’d get him and figure out what was going on.

* * *

The group sleeping on the owl-like Venat had begun to wake - mostly, at the chirps of the smaller son of the former God. He chirped, and the larger son chirped back. Thancred slowly opened his eyes, noting that Bolormaa had moved to grip to him on one side, and he had slight marks on his other arm - claw marks.   
  
“…Come now, we both know Mom’ll keep going!” the smaller creature said, looking to the people. “And besides, she’s got one of our brothers now.”   
  
The larger rainbow-feathered bird landed on one of the shelves, looking down. “Urianger isn’t our brother, Prompto - he just smells like me. I don’t get it either.” So the smaller one was called Prompto…? Huh. That sounded like a Garlean name, but he clearly wasn’t Garlean. “But he does seem like the sort… mother… would care for.”   
  
“Are you still bitter, Balthier?” Prompto asked, looking up - but not scurrying up, that was too far for him. Even if he was currently in a shell like this (he sometimes dreamed of being a human, being with others, being allowed to exist) the heights were… too high.   
  
The larger bird - Balthier, Thancred reasoned, tsked. “Why wouldn’t I be? I never knew her. She charmed my father, and as soon as I got her blood? He got engrossed in that Nethicite business.” That bitterness was something that Thancred was… familiar with, if only a little, but he didn’t see a place in this argument. Balthier puffed up his chest a little, as his eyes then locked with Thancred. After a moment, he went silent - looking away from both of them.   
  
But Prompto still spoke, so very softly. “…You can’t be like this anymore. We’re together now, right? And we’ll find your boyfriend and where I belong and— it’ll be fine.” Balthier didn’t respond, remaining glancing away.   
  
It didn’t take long for the group to begin to wake, as Thancred slowly looked over back at them. Papalymo woke with the Sylph in his arms, seeming shocked before a small smile parted his lips. Urianger groaned, rolling into the wide awake Moenbryda - and Bolormaa remained softly holding to Thancred, her tail beginning to wag. Alisaie was the only one who wasn’t quite awake - but then again, she was by one of the shelves, having snuck off to take one of the books. It was one on manipulation of aether. This was, after all, a part of the library focused on that sort of thing. Her claws remained dug into the books’ cover, greedily holding it close.   
  
“…This One gets it!” Lyse said, as she noticed Alisaie. “She’s a dragon now, right? Why wouldn’t she begin to hoard things? Like in the old stories?!” Papalymo could correct her - it wasn’t known if that was the behavior of dragons (though he did suspect it was the base)- but she looked so proud. He stood, stretching, and then beckoned.   
  
“We should leave, Lyse. You’re still injured,” Papalymo said - looking to the rest of the group. “And you have enough help finding information.” Honestly, though, the big owl gave him the creeps.   
  
Lyse frowned - but, then again, her body did ache all though. “I could use some nice tasty sunlight! But,” Lyse fluttered towards Urianger and gave him a tight hug, “Don’t get too sad again, okay? You’re our friend - you don’t need to hide what’s going on.”   
  
It didn’t take long for Lyse and Papalymo to teleport out - the smell waking Alisaie up, as she tried to remove her claws from the book, a little grumpily. Yawning, Alisaie got to her feet - looking to the group. But it was Thancred who spoke first, a mix of his chirps and the common Eorzean tongue.   
  
“Last night, before I went to sleep, Venat told me there’s books on Time Magic here - sealed somewhere quite dangerous. If there’s truly something like that, I doubt that a Skatene could get in. Apologies, but Sharlayan was never too kind to their familiars,” Thancred said - Venat giving a little chirp. They’d keep listening. “Urianger is still suffering the side-effects of using Return— actually, Venat? Can you ease the rash?”   
  
“…I can. It is from time before, trying to alter you to how you were. My smallest child also suffers from it - now that I know of what caused it, I can calm your pain with touch and magic.” As Urianger and Moenbryda had remained relaxed on Venat, Venat placed their wings over them - after a soft wrapping of magic, the room seemed to glow the softest blues and pinks, mixing together and vanishing in a puff of mist.   
  
Lifting their wing, Venat let the group look over the Elezen-Ascian and the Roegadyn - their skins were clear of scars and crystal, their bodies finally clean. Moenbryda looked to herself, then to Urianger - and stood, pulling Urianger to her side. “You know I’ll need to check him all over, right?” she commented - Urianger turning as bright as the crystal which had been part of his skin just a few moments before. Gripping to Moenbryda, he buried his head.   
  
But instead of walking towards Venat, before getting aided, Thancred shook his head. “…I plan on learning Time Magic. But, as our fine feathered friend mentioned… time itself is a little distorted around there. And… Venat planned on meeting with Hydaelyn there.   
  
Bolormaa?” Thancred said, looking to her, even as Venat huffed and wrapped up Thancred to cure him of his own crystal woes. “What do you want to do now? You could stay with the others, or…”   
  
Alisaie then spoke up, before Bolormaa could. “Why are you inviting her— I could come!”   
  
Thancred sighed - Alisaie could come. But… “Not when me and Urianger’re going to find you a way to be less dragon,” Moenbryda said. She could see it in Thancreds’ eyes - he really didn’t know if he’d return. She returned him a look - he’d better come back. “Besides, what if that time distortion turns you to an old lady? Alphinaud would have a heart attack!”   
  
Alisaie huffed, but nodded. Fine. She wouldn’t do that. She’ll stay with Moenbryda and Urianger - besides, she needed to figure out what it meant if he was Ascian. But still—   
  
“…I want to come with you, Thancred,” Bolormaa stated. Her voice was so very quiet, but held no nervousness. Putting a hand to him, she nodded. “If there’s a chance to discover— who I am, I’d like to. And if I only existed after the Return, then… Time Magic will lead me down that path.”   
  
Softly, Thancred moved her into a hug - gripping to his dear Bolormaa so very tightly. “Bolormaa… then we’ll go,” Thancred whispered to her, nearly placing his lips to her horn-like ears. Looking over her to the rest of them - Venat, the two birds, Moenbryda, Urianger, and Alisaie… he gave a warm smile. “And I promise I won’t get too lost in my studies. It’ll be like I never left.”   
  
With that, Thancred began to walk off - Bolormaa by his side - deeper into the library. In the same direction Venat had been going, the lightest bit of their black blood as direction.   
  
Venat let out a soft low chirp of good luck, before looking to the others. “Do you truly want to seek out… books on altering forms?” they asked, looking to Alisaie. “You smell as if your spell is… bound by a stronger force.”   
  
Urianger spoke up, finally pulling away from Moenbryda - even as he felt Prompto begin to nuzzle against him again. “She was polymorphed - like my fair Moenbryda - but hers did not work as planned. It was the aether of Nidhogg which binds her - else we’d return her to Elezen.   
  
…She was born Elezen, and turned to dragon though pained circumstances,” Urianger added, as Venat tilted their head. Alisaie nodded - before pausing.   
  
“…Nidhogg,” she repeated, looking straight at the others. “Alphinaud - who knew what that could do - is using Nidhoggs’ eyes?!” The only reply Urianger could give was a short nod - before Alisaie let out quite the frustrated roar. Closer to the scream of Bahamut to anything Spoken. “We’ll need to get some sense slapped into him - once we know how to counter this.”


	23. Chapter 23

“…Wait.”   
  
A few days had passed, as the group remaining in the library had bunkered down to study. Not just altering forms, but much of this knowledge was lost and hidden - perhaps it could teach them about why the worlds ended. And find out what, exactly, might be happening to Alphinaud. Alisaie, however, was perched on one of the tables - looking between Urianger and Moenbryda. “Moenbryda was altered? I— she’s always been a Roegadyn, hasn’t she?”   
  
Looking up from her book, Moenbryda shrugged. “I was born as one, but ended up on the wrong side of an Ascian,” she said, looking straight at Alisaie. Her scales glimmered with the energy of the spells. “Actually, we have time. Besides, it’s a pretty good tale.”   
  
Putting her book down, Moenbryda gestured to the seat between the two. Urianger looked over, a slight blush covering his cheeks - before, too, placing down his book. “So we are to tell the tale of our relationship?” he asked, trying not to frown too much. Knowing Alisaie, she’d be able to put it together - what he was. No, more like who he was, what he was able to do. But as always, Urianger knew Moenbryda wouldn’t stop the story when it began. Hopefully, Alisaie would be more invested. As Moenbryda stretched, however, one of the two weird creatures by Venat fluttered over. The smaller one (Prompto, was it?) - Alisaie let him sit on her lap as she got comfortable, tail trembling…

* * *

It was many years ago, when Sharlayan abandoned their Dravanian settlement, and returned to their home. There were none who remained, or so it seemed. Some buildings remained sealed, some creatures remained inside. Rumours of dangers had prevented people from opening them.   
  
However, our story begins five years before that time - during that period of time envoys had gone to Garlemald. One of the children of these diplomats - Moenbryda - had decided she’d try and follow. Why? Well, if we’re honest, she didn’t want to have her father and mother go off and get themselves killed. As she tried to cross the fields, however, day turned to night - and she needed to find shelter. Stumbling though fields of flowers, the young Roegadyn did not notice when her feet met with bare dirt though her heavy travel boots, ran though a circle of deep red flowers, visibly bright even under the empty moon. A mistake, but a mistake many of Sharlayan would make.   
  
For the study of Paragon was often seen as foolish. Why study what was just myth, when there was much more concrete to figure out? Suddenly stopped by the deepest of strange binds, Moenbryda looked - to see what looked like another child, robed in a deep black cloak. “May I ask a favour?”   
  
Moenbryda, of course, let out a snort. “You just did,” she said - even if she didn’t know how to talk to a Paragon, she knew how to be sarcastic. And suddenly being frozen in place wasn’t something she’s expect if she wasn’t dealing with something out of the normal. “But shoot.”   
  
The robed creature had begun to pace around her, speaking in gentle tones. “I’m looking for somewhere to stay - could I stay with you?”   
  
“You could… but I don’t want you to. What sort of mage are you? How are you doing this?”   
  
The questions simply got a tsk out of the robed Paragon, touching her like she was just a piece of meat. “…I do not understand. I can, but I cannot?” they asked, looking into her eyes - though she couldn’t tell, though their murky mask. Yeah, Moenbryda didn’t like this.   
  
And that’s when she shoved the Paragon - a big mistake. “I don’t know where you were raised, but you give me the creeps!” Moenbryda said, her lips twisting into quite the scowl. As they did, the Paragon fell to the ground.   
  
Oddly enough, however, they landed as if they were nothing. Not even a corpse. Standing again, they looked over her. “You are a waste of one of them.”   
  
As the Paragon spoke in a mix of the Sharlayan tongue and a tongue long-lost, Moenbryda felt a pain in her body. “You are rude and dismissive. I like you not. You do not deserve to walk among the living.”   
  
The living…? It was at that moment that Moenbryda felt a shudder though her bones - not just the same power that, in the future, would make one recall their past in the previous timeline. Soft pain of seeing what was. What had been, and what was robbed from her. Quickly, she looked over, and she could see it was an Ascian who looked back, gazed frustrated. Twice now had they hurt her, but that didn’t seem to be the only concern. She tried to reach a hand for them again, before seeing not a hand, but a claw-like paw. It was covered in blue fur - as Moenbryda stared, the Ascian spoke again - their voice hissing.   
  
“If I cannot have your form, none will. You shall roam as a monster, selfish child.”   
  
Moenbryda tried to open her mouth - it felt different, it felt wrong - but she let out a laugh, even as memories flooded her vision and she felt as if her back was breaking. “Selfish? You wanted my body - I know about your kind.” The words dripped from her mouth, sounding harsher then she expected.   
  
But before the Paragon gave an answer, they vanished - along with their ring of flowers. Was it because they had no answer, or because they were to seek another. Moenbryda didn’t know, as she set back towards town. But before she headed into the settlement, she snuck around towards the Thaliak River - just how much damage had that damned Ascian done? Unable to stand, she had to crawl - weight pulling her to the ground.   
  
Our dear Moenbryda, however, did not make it that far until she was spotted, a scholar walking by. They met each others gaze, and the scholar let out a shriek - grabbing one of their books as defense. Before the scholar could attempt to knock her out with what seemed like a heavy read, Moenbryda ran - ran and ran.   
  
What the beast did not know is that the large building she ran into - a former Ishgardian outpost - would become her home. (In order to aid in stopping Dravanian attacks, the settlers of this Sharlayan colony forced the Ishgardians out. They stopped most trade with them - which made it quite awkward to cross their territory.) For as word spread of a Beast - one garbed in the form of an overgrown Carbuncle with a scorpion-esque stinger - none went to see her. Those who may have tried were barred by others, and the building was charmed much like the Beast.   
  
She would not leave, and the colony would be safe. None would enter, and they would not be devoured or worse.   
  
It was only after, however, that it was discovered Moenbryda was gone. Her axe was found with flecks of the red plant, and the worst was thought. As they had lost one of their brightest young ladies, Sharlayan was fulled with mourning for the mind that could have been - unaware of her own state.

* * *

“That’s just like Sharlayan, though,” Moenbryda said - both of Venats’ children now gathered in the group. She looked the slightest bit nostalgiac, as she pet the smaller Prompto. “Didn’t try and connect the axe and the weird magic fox. ‘course, if they did, they might have thought I’d eaten myself.”   
  
Snorting, Alisaie nodded - before pausing. “This was before I was born, wasn’t it? Louisoix and Papalymo would have helped out if they could - I’m sure of it!”   
  
“Oh, they both said the same thing,” Moenbryda replied, leaning back. “If the wards weren’t as strong, quite a few would have wanted to check me out.”   
  
“Alas,” Urianger said from his own seat, “the wards were made as strong as Man could conjour.” Urianger had accepted it - he was Ascian, and it was implied it was not too strong for him. Back then, though… “To have one such as I walking though would have played my hand,” Urianger explained. “To Sharlayan - to Eorzea - I am Urianger. I am not Nabriales - or whatever is left of them both.”   
  
Gently, Moenbryda put a hand to Uriangers’ cheek, giving a little smile - until the chirps of the bird-like Prompto interupted. “If you’re only a bit of them left, then wouldn’t there be the rest out there somewhere?”   
  
Pausing, Urianger nodded after a moment. “…I’d not know where. Fragments across the seas of chaos, left broken. If there was still will, they could form together… why are you curious, little one?”   
  
Huffing a little, Prompto cuddled more onto the most comfortable lap he could sit on. “Keep telling the story - you’ll figure it out, bro.” Quietly, Urianger looked back to Moenbryda - he’d take over, then?   
  
…He would. After all, he knew of this story as well.

* * *

Years passed, and the sealed beast was nearly forgotten - only remembered when snarls came from that building, when creatures were unable to get though the barrier. Rumours of the terrifying beast sometimes coming up against it, roaring at the world outside, continued to echo though Sharlayan - and when they finally decided to return to the motherland, the choice was made. They’d leave the beast, leave them sealed. It was too dangerous to try and extract it, it would kill those who tried. Or, at least, that was the justification.   
  
However, there were some who didn’t wish to abandon their home. One of those was the young Urianger, who’d recently turned 17. The world was strange to the blend of Ascian and Man, and he did not understand why they left parts of them behind - visible to anybody who came. Sure, none of them could dispell the spell binding the beast, but couldn’t others? Couldn’t the Dravanian, or mages from elsewhere? He had to investigate. Now that he was alone - having vanished in the hustle of movement - there was no point wearing his mask. Black cloak covering his body, Urianger no longer needed to hide his powers. He wasn’t wearing an Ascian cloak nor mask, however - he’d not been in contact with any other of his kind.   
  
Were they unaware of him? Somehow, did Nabriales still exist out there, not fused with him? That was something that Urianger desired to investigate later, once he had the resources of being an Archon. Holding the memories of the future, keeping them secret, was something Urianger had accepted as part of his deal with Elidibus. He’d not speak of it, no matter what - simply alter events though manipulation.   
  
Casually putting a gloved hand to the barrier, Urianger found it easy to slip into. Shuddering at the charms, Urianger looked at the building— well, now ruins. Even if the wards and barrier prevented things from entering, it didn’t stop nature— or the large owl who seemed to be resting at the top of the building. Had it remained trapped when this had happened? No, that felt impossible - a strong aura came from it, and besides. It was nesting, the slight glimmer of not quite eggs coming from beneath it.

* * *

“—That was Venat,” Moenbryda said, in realization. “And, yeah, they weren’t trapped. They’d bring fresh meat sometimes - otherwise I wouldn’t have survived.”   
  
Slightly fluffing up, Prompto nodded - Balthier lounging between them. “That’s what Mom’s like! Even if they’re a bit of a people fangirl.”   
  
“That’s not even half of it,” Balthier added, landing and dismissive. “Venat came from my world - they worked with my father. Creating death.” Of course, Balthier couldn’t forgive. Couldn’t forget. Even after his world had fallen, the past was the past. “They have some sort of responsibility to those altered by people - or, in this case, Ascian.”   
  
A responsibility that Balthier had trouble understanding. Venat had the eternal life that nobody wanted, not even them. And yet, they still used it to help - in their own way. The last time they tried, though, back home - well. It brought Ivalice to ruin, ended their iteration. Sometimes, Balthier still woke from nightmares - his apprentice falling to crystal and obsession, the bright flash of a nethicite explosion. Everything burned, everything burned, and he woke under the strange meteor which took down every world. Why didn’t Venat—   
  
“…They didn’t save anybody,” Balthier whispered, looking away with a glare. To Venat. There was time to question them later - but for now, Balthier moved to brood a little. Bundling into a bundle of feathers. Prompto hopped onto the table, to look him over - before turning back to the group.   
  
“Oh, he does this sometimes. It’s fine— it’s fine! Don’t worry, he’ll be back to showing off,” Prompto said, softly. Alisaie tilted her head. Something else had come up, something she’d been wondering for a few days now. Ever since they’d made peace with the strange birds…   
  
…mostly Venat. “When we first battled you, Venat said both of you were sick. And now you’re hopping around,” Alisaie said in accusation. Though she was quite pleased listening to the story of Moenbryda and Urianger, there might not be another time to ask this.   
  
Softly snorting, Balthier fluttered over. “Oh, Prompto’s still sick - been that way for quite some time.” Landing right on the relaxing Alisaie, Balthier continued. “Back when he joined me and Fran - my partner, who I’m certain is fine - he was barely anything. He was just a bit of Mist, and he clung to me.”   
  
Pausing to stretch out further, Balthier sighed. “Couldn’t get rid of him, even when the iteration ended. But unlike me? He hasn’t had an iteration he’s meant to belong in. Until he finds one, he’ll keep being sick - and the spell your handsome mage here used isn’t doing him any wonders.” Of course, even at a time like this - as Alisaie lazily kicked at Balthier, trying to get him to shift off of her tail - Balthier had to try and charm her and Urianger both. But softly snorting, Alisaie nodded a little to him. Balthier, satisfied, placed himself right next to Prompto. He’d grown attached to the boy, even after everything went wrong. Even after his iteration - his hope - slipped away.   
  
Alisaie, now satisfied, shifted slightly - to get more comfortable. “So. Venat kept you alive, and then Urianger showed up. What then?”   
  
Beaming, Moenbryda nodded. She’d continue telling the tale with Urianger - hopefully, without any more interruptions.

* * *

Though Urianger had come though the barrier, and had sighted what he now knew was the Occuria watching over them, he knew that his Name was special. Not to share it with the beasts within, nor his abilities. Even an Ascian was aware of these - perhaps moreso then a regular mage.   
  
So when he met with the beast, there was distrust. Not just distrust, but fear. It was Moenbryda who spoke first, her voice weak from not being used in years. “…How did you— who’re you?”   
  
It had been years, and even longer since Urianger had spoken to her. He couldn’t tell it was his closest friend, the one he mourned for. The one who, even if he was made of two men including the one who’d destroyed her, he loved. (Well, who destroyed him as well.) Even so, he shook his head. “…was curious.”   
  
“Curious. And you came in here? The place with no exit?”   
  
After a pause, Moenbryda burst out laughing. “Well, as long as you’re here, might as well be a guest. But, uh, just keep careful.”   
  
From then on, the two lived together - for moons. At first, the young Urianger read alone, until he found himself resting on the warm fluffy Carbuncle more and more. To be honest, he didn’t notice how close he was getting to her. How close he was caring for her, brushing her fur and even trimming it. Treating her just like another person.   
  
That is, until the day he proposed. Not romantically, but he had brought Moenbryda out to the barrier. “…I am able to passeth though this,” he admitted, looking to her. “For all this time, this has been no prison of mine.”   
  
Moenbryda tilted her head, resting it on his back. “Then why didn’t you?” she asked, tail swishing. Wrapping around her love.   
  
Urianger cracked a smile. “For thee. Mine one first thoughts were for remaining in mine own homeland - alas…” he said, placing his hands into her fluff, “I’ve more, now.   
  
Will thee leave thy prison, to journey with me?”   
  
After a moment of silence from the beast, Urianger began to panic internally. “My magic is stronger then most - I can maketh you look like aught you desire—”   
  
“I would have said yes before that,” Moenbryda said. “This place is pretty boring once you’ve read and poked everything.” With that, Urianger simply needed to project tentacles of darkness, tearing a hole in the barrier—   
  
—and they were free.

* * *

“It was only about a week until we arrived back across the sea? But before that, Urianger helped me Polymorph - and then he realised who I was,” Moenbryda finally finished, looking to her embarrassed Elezen. “But, you know. I didn’t know Ascian could feel love.”   
  
Urianger stretched a little, trying still to mask his blush. “…I am made of the aether of a Spoken and an Ascian. But still, it should not be,” Urianger stated, simply. Love was an emotion that Spoken had - there were many that Ascian didn’t hold, and many that Spoken did not. That was just one reason they were incompatible - that, and the fact that Spoken… no, not just Spoken but all beings of Eorzea… were blessed by the Light. And yet. And yet, Urianger felt deep love. Yes, he was sure of it. After catching his thoughts, Urianger continued. “We cherished each other before, though I was not able to fully express those feelings.”   
  
“Yeah, until you bonded with me,” Moenbryda said, beaming at him. Now that she mentioned it, Alisaie hadn’t noticed the band on her wrist, nor the simple ring on her finger. But she hadn’t attended…? Before she could ask, Moenbryda shrugged. “You were only a kid. Like… four or so? Why, you tried to take my axe then. That’s why I got you one for your next name day.”   
  
Right. Alisaie didn’t remember that story, just remembered her glee when she got a small axe for herself. Perhaps, in another time, she wouldn’t use it as her main weapon. But it was comfortable, and she had bonded with Aunt Moenbryda a lot using it. Still, childhood stories were a little embarrassing. “…You two never told each other that you remembered?” Alisaie pondered.   
  
Moenbryda shook her head. “Why bring it up?”   
  
“It would only bring pain, if I was to tell her of her passing - of what was to pass. I aimed to alter her path though action, not simply warning her. For if she knew—”   
  
“—I’d go and run off and do it,” Moenbryda said, finishing Uriangers’ sentence. “So, we both danced around it. Guess we both wanted to live in the now, huh?”   
  
As she leaned over to kiss Urianger, Urianger nearly flopped onto his dearest Moenbryda. He didn’t need to say more. They… knew now.   
  
The two of them were safe - no. Everybody here was safe, until that creature were to come. Urianger softly combed though Moenbrydas’ hair, his fingers reaching down to her back - under her clothes. His fingers glimmered a little, so he could feel her soft fur. She was his beast, but also his beauty.   
  
And the two loved each other so very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was challenged to include a beauty and the beast au in this fic  
> and so i did


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has sexual content. A sex scene.

For the group of G’raha, Cid, and Nero, the fighting in Ishgard and the discoveries in Gubal were unknown. No, Nero had been passing notes to G’raha, chatting to him as he experimented with his craft. The Miqo’te was the only one who could leave the Tower, but he brought over many materials for Nero to try experimenting with. By this point, Biggs and Wedge had tried to contact Cid - and failed. As had Doga and Unei - but G’raha couldn’t tell them what was going on.   
  
It was another morning, with G’raha waking up where he’d gone to sleep - one of the many balcony-adjacent rooms. (Well, he’d pushed a bed out there.) Cid had gone to sleep with Nero again - who’d left his enclosure, and had rull reign of wherever he could fit. Alas, there was no sign of Amons’ journal - nor any other documents which could tell them more about Omega and how it could even have children. As G’raha slipped on his clothes sleepily, there was a knock at his door. “Coming…” he mumbled, half-asleep as the sun hit him.   
  
Once G’raha opened the door, however, he almost wondered if he was still asleep. For in front of him was Cid - not as a blob, but… he was there, in the flesh. At least, for a moment, that seemed to be true. But his body began to melt down again, barely remaining solidly in the form. Plus, he was still naked - if Cid had come to his door naked and… well, not some form of creature like this, it would be a lot more disturbing.   
  
Not that G’raha minded - stumbling forward to hold Cid a little. His skin felt semi-solid, not like he could slip though it. When Cid opened his mouth, though, G’raha could note the covering seemed to even extend into there. “…the mad man did it, G‘raha,” Cid whispered - his voice still seeming like a soft stream. “He turned me back - as best he could. Can’t hold it for long.”   
  
“Is he handling not complaining every second okay?” G’raha asked jokingly - casually letting go as if he wasn’t overemotional.   
  
Laughing, Cid looked G’raha over a bit. “Oh, he’s been complaining. But not about doing this. No, he called it a fun challenge when it was done - remember the parts I got you to bring from the Ironworks a few days back?” At G’rahas’ nod, Cid gestured a little. “I’ve already installed them in him. Come with me.”

* * *

It was surprising - but it shouldn’t have been - to G’raha, that Cid still seemed to lift his legs as he slid along, tried to keep looking Garlean. Habit, he supposed. But it wasn’t long until they got to the room Nero had claimed - one with a large doorway, and a lot of free space. The large robot was laying on its’ side, casually swirling one of his front claw in and around a bit of leftover ooze. Trying not to smirk too much, Cid slid over - as G’raha ran up. “Nero! Can you— really talk?”   
  
Raising his head slightly, silence seemed to come from Nero for a bit - long enough for G’rahas’ ears to lower, and for him to slightly turn towards Cid. “I’ve never been a fan of surgery while I’m awake, ‘raha - you’ll have to mind me a little.” Before he could finish talking, however, G’raha was gripped to him again. A hug, Nero supposed. He’d been doing that a lot. Letting out a wheeze, Nero continued. “I’m so glad you didn’t ruin my surprise to my love—”   
  
Nero really had let himself go - let down his guard - but as soon as he said that one word, his body seemed to freeze up. Love. Nero tol Scaeva had never wanted to admit he loved Cid. No, it was more like… he couldn’t admit it to himself. He hadn’t loved him before time had gone backwards, that was for sure. Or had he? Feelings were confusing. But unlike most of Garlemald, Cid seemed… not concerned with his position, before or after fleeing. A strange concept, but one which seemed to suit Eorzea better then Garlemald. And a concept Nero approved of, even if Cid still used that position without realizing it. The child of any upper class person would end up just like them, Nero had been taught. And you could not raise above your rank. He would have never become more then a Bas, if not for his own studies. Then again, he was an Allagan robot - if they’d known that, he would have either been promoted in rank, or… experimented on.   
  
Nothing seemed to move. Nobody seemed to do anything. The rightful heir to Allag, and the one he’d confessed about. Not even to - damnit, Nero was a moron. Beginning to lower his head, Nero thought he could mask what he said - but it’d been too long. Trying to hide his entire face, even if it didn’t blush or show emotions, Nero was almost burrowing into the ground - until he felt that softness from Cid against him. Cid was going to mock him, wasn’t he. Loving him? Hah. That was far too much for Nero to ask. He’d learned what he was, and he was there for all of it.   
  
What Nero didn’t expect was, well, a soft stroke across the leg closest to him. Cid was… touching him? Not slapping him? No, he shouldn’t look up - it was weird. Was Cid trying to get him to drop his guard? But soon… soon, Cid moved in front of Nero.   
  
He was smiling. Nero gazed at him, unwavering. “…Garlond. I didn’t mean it,” Nero muttered, trying again to look away from that perfect smile - marred by the fact it was basically a blob with a fold in it. No, no, that was perfect as well.   
  
As Cid stroked the large face of the robot - closing his eyes, Cid could think back to Nero, to his rough face and broken smirk - his own expression remained so very soft. It took a lot for somebody of Garlemald to adapt to Eorzea - at times, he didn’t know if he’d adapted. He wanted to have, but there were still bitter looks at him and his Magitek - just because he was Garlean. “…Then I mean this.”   
  
Cid kissed Nero.   
  
Sure, his mouth was just a false one, trying to appear as if he was Garlean. And sure, Nero didn’t have a mouth - nowhere for his tongue to slip into, except for across the magnificent smooth metal. It was a good thing that Nero was laying down, else Cid wouldn’t be able to even reach his face. A few chipped marks on his face, however, were all Cid needed to kiss. Scars, huh. They both had them. The soft glow inside Cid began to light up again, as Nero stopped moving - if he could, he’d be wide-eyed and staring.   
  
Pulling away with a slight drool - well, slime - trail, Cid couldn’t help but feel so much relief. A moment passed, before Nero let out a soft confused whine. “I— what was that, Cid.”   
  
“A kiss. Or haven’t you had one before?” Cid asked - the warm afterglow still shuddering though his body. Who knew a kiss could feel so good? At least, for Cid. Nero seemed to be glowing less - no, it was just his visor which seemed to dull. That would be a no, and Cid frowned - putting a hand back to Nero.   
  
Odd. The metal was feeling less solid. A warmth seemed to burn inside Nero again. “I love you too, Nero,” Cid said - finally confident about it. Well, mostly confident. Cid didn’t know when he began to love Nero, either - but it wasn’t in the original timeline, before everything happened. Was it that night they slept in the same bed, Nero cuddled so close while injured? Was it before, after seeing him try and stand up to Amon? Or was it even sooner, when Nero sparked his memories after saving his life? It didn’t mater, Cid realised. Really, what mattered was that he had Nero here now - closing his eyes, he moved in for another kiss.   
  
This one felt different. Unlike the last kiss, Nero seemed to push into it, almost seeming to have lips. Cids’ watery makeshift tongue seemed to break apart at the toughness of a metallic tongue, thick and tentacle-like. But as Cid continued the closed-eyed kiss, arms wrapped around him - thin but strong, metal but warm, broken but whole. It was when Cid felt the inside of his mouth begin to overflow with slime that he opened his eyes…   
  
…and there Nero was, looking almost as he used to. His large red wings remained stretched out, his fingers were dyed a beautiful glowing blue, and his shoulders were covered in thick red metal. Hungry to continue kissing, Nero pushed more and more into Cid, craving that love - craving that affection, that approval. Even if Nero was naked and G’raha was trying not to stare, Cid wrapped his arms around Nero - arms seeming to fuse together, soft waterfalls dripping over that soft, featureless back.   
  
After a moment, Cid pulled away - swallowing. “…Nero,” he whispered, softly glowing. “You’re back to you.”   
  
Nero looked to himself - his expression shifting. He could actually shift it now, he looked like a person. He looked like Amon, but with flesh and hair and… he’d need to figure out what to do now. There had to be words Nero could think of, but none came to mind. That is, until he felt Cid pull away. “Don’t go,” Nero mumbled, “or are you that desperate to get off of me?”   
  
A mix of snark and desperation - Nero wasn’t back to normal, but he was beginning to act like it. Cid softly placed a hand to Nero, having to swallow again. “You pierced my inner cheek, Nero - I was hoping to get it a little more solid.” Before Cid could speak more, Nero kissed him again - a soft tingling seeming to fill Cids’ mouth, as the damage was repaired. Of course Nero could do this - he’d made this form.   
  
Finally, though, the two heard G’raha clearing his throat - Cid turned first, before Nero. “You’re looking fine, Nero - but how did this happen? We’re getting more and more questions by the day.” Not that G’raha minded, but… Nero laughed, looking to him.   
  
“Really, ‘raha. I’d think that Amon would build a way for his treasured automation to continue to look like that bastard,” Nero said - honestly, that was the only thing which made sense to him. But, a kiss? How very storyesque. “Don’t you?” Internally, however, Nero wanted to be rid of this look, if only a little. Perhaps he’d grow out his hair, or he’d use contacts - but not red, not like Amon. His eyes being blue was quite odd. A sign of him being lesser then royal? Of course. Why would Amon want to be replaced by an automation? Disgusting, all of this.   
  
As Nero eyed G’raha, however, he noticed that he seemed to be sweating. Approaching, Nero placed a hand to G’raha - Cid gripping to Nero a little. G’raha laughed, placing an arm over Nero. “‘m fine,” he mumbled - before turning as Cid talked.   
  
“Back when you and me were with Nero - when his wings were coming out - did you happen to get any of his innards on you?” Cid asked - it was a gross way of putting it, but it was true. G’raha paused, thinking, before—   
  
“—I poked around in him. Some of it tried to pull me in?”   
  
Shit. Cid pulled away from Nero, looking upwards - they could leave this place, yeah. “That’s what made me become this, G’raha. We— have to stop you from turning the same way,” he insisted, beginning to make his way towards the rope. Frowning, G’raha began to follow - crossing his arms.   
  
One thing didn’t make sense. “If that’s what did it, why did it change you so quickly?”   
  
Cid, however, simply shook his head - why’d G’raha only use a rope to get them down. “We can figure that out later.”   
  
As the two struggled, however, Nero casually climbed up the wall - looking down at them. “Garlond, ‘raha. Stop worrying about it - we have this entire tower to figure out a way to stop it. Besides - this is some form of experimental area, isn’t it? If I’m from around here, I should be able to activate more of… whatever happened here.” As Nero talked - trying to keep himself steady, keep himself focused on what was going on - he leaned down. G’raha took his hands, and was lifted so very easily. As the Miqo’te settled above them - looking to his hands, no they didn’t hurt. But there was a soft blue inside it - that wasn’t good.   
  
Swiftly, Nero placed a hand to Cid - the ooze seeming to solidify - before he smirked. “Oh, Garlond. Guess you owe me one now, hm?”   
  
Affectionately, Cid crawled up Neros’ arm - making his way up, to join the other two. “The hells I do, Scaeva.”

* * *

Just as Nero had thought, he could wave a hand and many locked doors would open. Leaving the enclosures, Nero looked forward to G’raha - resisting his urge to bow to him. They were… equals. Yes, Equals. Besides - as his lips trembled, Nero had to remain strong for the others. After all, he was Nero tol Scaeva, automation of Allag, and Child of Omega. Nobody’d forgive him if he was weak. (At least… he’d not forgive himself.) Cid almost seemed to be walking besides him, even if it was more sliding - eying him, but more eyeing the rooms they rushed into to examine. Each one took several minutes to look though - even though it was a quick search, Nero casually translated labels.   
  
And, oh boy, were there quite a few experiments seeking immortality in this place. Half-finished cloning machines which shared memories across bodies, quite a few books on separating the soul from the body, and giving somebody else your memories. It seemed Amon truly loved the idea of bringing back the dead and giving them everlasting life.   
  
The former didn’t interest Nero. The latter was far too frightening for him to consider - but it could aid them, if G’raha could be saved. Well, not end up like Cid.   
  
But the next room they entered was different, and filled Nero with a familiar feeling of dread when they opened the door. The same he’d felt when facing Amon. Stepping into the soft blue room, the first thing that Cid and G’raha both noticed was the rank stench. Like a battlefield, but… preserved? For all this time? Cautiously, G’raha lead them in - eyes wide.   
  
Draped from the ceiling was a peculiar fabric, one similar to what Amon was garbed in - though they would expect Allagan lettering, there was none. The floor was smooth, but a material G’raha and Nero didn’t seem to flinch at. One knew, one didn’t - and the slight flicker of his teeth was the only sign Nero used to show that fact. Cid slowed as he entered - glancing to Nero slightly. “…This is—”   
  
“…A clever use for failed clones, yes,” Nero mumbled. G’raha looked back at them for a moment, then back to the floor - damnit. Damn. The floor was bone, wasn’t it? Slowly, he continued to venture inwards. The three of them were together. Nero continued, however, as he scanned the environment. “To be fair to Amon, he lacked the muscle to lift any metal.”   
  
It wasn’t the time for jokes, but G’raha trembled with a soft purr. Anything to focus on the room. The lights were off - and, of course, this was deep in the tower. There’d be no windows. Casually, Nero placed a hand to Cid - and Cid felt himself growing warmer, his body beginning to glow. The room was another experimental room - but the machine near the back of the room seemed to be… not broken. Nero began to step towards it, feeling a buzzing in his head.   
  
His hand gently rubbed against the machine, static passing from it to him. A deep familiar feeling seemed to radiate from it - as if he’d been there before…? Perhaps it was part of what he’d done as Alpupus. Damnit— Nero hadn’t noticed, but his lips were moving without him thinking. He was talking. “…This’ll save you, ‘raha.”   
  
But to be fair… Nero seemed to trust it internally as well. Was it because of Amon…? G’raha looked from the oddly straight-standing Nero, to the slimy Cid, to his own arm - which had begun to become a little melty. Shaking his head, G’raha smiled at the two of them. Stepping into the machine, he gave the thumbs up - before it slammed shut. As it began to activate, Nero dropped to his knees again.   
  
Before he could talk, before he could say anything, Cid was on him. Holding him? (Cid was hugging him, but Nero couldn’t tell. Didn’t want to tell.) Nero looked to him, and gave a soft whine. “I don’t know what it’s going to do, Cid. I— hells, I heard a buzz and—”   
  
“Calm down, Nero,” Cid said - gripping him tighter, glowing more and more. Cid wasn’t calm either, as the machine silently worked - but… “G’raha isn’t screaming. That’s a good sign. But— a buzz. Nero, what’s going on.”   
  
Closing his eyes, trying to listen for anything, Nero let out a soft whine. “I think— I think I’ve been here before, Cid. Before Allag fell. And I couldn’t help but talk without thinking.” He paused for a moment, before frowning. “Before you snark, Garlond, I do think before talking. But— I don’t want this.   
  
I don’t want ‘raha to die, either.”   
  
The two remained bundled together, as a soft glow began to make its way down the machine, silently… and then another. More and more beams illuminated the room as Cid stopped glowing, darkness seeming to coat the two. Then, Nero did something Cid never thought he would.   
  
Nero tol Scaeva let out a soft sob. He couldn’t show weakness, but he had just sent one he cared for to who knew what? Again and again, Nero hurt those he cared for. Cid remained gripping him, looking from the man trying not to show emotion to the machine. The beams had begun to lessen - the light had turned from blue to red. In the light was— “Nero. Pay attention,” Cid said to him. He knew that Nero wouldn’t accept comfort, so instead… “There’s Allagan on the machine. Translate it.”   
  
Right. They were relying on him - or, at least, that’s what Cid wanted Nero to feel. And it was working, as he began to scan the letters in the darkness. “It’s a progress meter - over there, there’s a liquid filling a tube. Next to it, it’s using words to show how much it’s done - quite a foolish system, if you ask me.” Even now, Nero could find a joke to make. Or a snide comment at the past. Continuing, his eyes moved to a semi-illuminated list next to the progress tube. “…He’s going to be safe, Garlond.”   
  
“Read something good?” Cid asked, shifting back a little so he wasn’t covering Neros’ neck, at the very least - even if he gave him a little kiss to the back of it.   
  
Nero nodded, confident again. No more shaking. Even if he really was shaking, really was trying not to whine and tremble and feel sick, however he’d do that. (It was a feeling he’d pretended to understand before.) “This was, after all, one of many rooms Amon was testing different ways of immortality in. This one seems to be for a failed form - for it would make somebody immortal, but…”   
  
“…But?”   
  
“…Automations don’t have free will, according to him. If I’m reading what really happened that fateful night with— what I don’t remember?” Nero said, pausing as he placed a hand to Cid. “I was traumatized. It wouldn’t have been the first thing Amon had tried to make me into a replica of him - and why, then, would I do anything but follow his commands? Alpupus sounds like quite the weak creature.”   
  
Nero was Garlean. To him, of course, any weakness was a sign of not being raised right - at least, he thought so, as he continued to read the translations. “Now, those aren’t instructions on how it works. No, it’s simply the steps - it takes the aether which makes up what some savages call the soul, duplicates the flesh, and turns that so-called soul into an artificial mind. That last step is the longest - once the technology has finished filling ‘rahas body, I’d say it’d be… d-done.”   
  
No. Nero couldn’t do it - even as he was already on the floor, his voice cracked. His hands gave out, dropping to the ground. Weakly, Nero didn’t even seem to feel Cid engulfing him again, gently bubbling around him. Really, with anybody else, this’d be morbid - and, Nero would shrug them away.   
  
But the two of them remained there, quietly, as the machine continued. It wouldn’t be long - would it…?

* * *

Though the two would not have noticed as they slipped into a resting state - Nero actually closing his eyes and seeming to become inattentive to the world as Cid snored around him - it had been an entire day. The two of them had bundled each other so very close, if either of them breathed they’d be sharing the same air.   
  
Of course, Nero shifted awake first, for he didn’t sleep. Really, he didn’t think Cid would sleep now, but he felt the ooze around him - oddly, Nero didn’t feel like Cid had corroded him. Was it a choice, or was it because he was Omega? Either way, Nero gently brushed one of his hands against Cids’ core - before looking over. The progress tube looked nearly full - a few drips of liquid came down as he looked, but not much. What did that Allagan say next to it…? “Final adjustments,” Nero said, as Cid began to shift. “He’ll— he’ll be back soon.”   
  
Cid stretched - slime dripping down him - before he lazily slid off of Nero. “…You know, Nero.” The way he said that - slightly commanding - made Nero shudder, as he looked back at his… boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend. “You can shape things out of… this. Normally I wouldn’t trust you with this, but…   
  
…together, I could become myself again.”   
  
For a few moments, Nero tried to hold back a laugh. No, not quite a laugh - there was a feeling deep in his throat, deep in his mind. Adoration and… damnit, was this trust? Was Nero trusting himself with this? He’d screw it up again. He’d break Cid and then he’d lose him again, but this time as a lover instead of a hated rival. But that damned perfect look, that glow, that softness in Cids’ quivering lip - why did it need to quiver, Nero couldn’t help but nod to him. Confidence faded from his eyes, though, even Cid could feel that the automation wasn’t quite sure. “Who knows?” Nero snarked, as he gently placed his forehead to Cids’ - where if they were both how they used to be, their third eyes would be touching. “I might improve you further.”   
  
But how would he begin? Nero didn’t want to become that robot again, he liked being human-sized. Stretching his bug-like wings, Nero leaned back a little - glancing back at the progress of what G’raha was going though. It was hard to tell how long it was. Snapping back to Cid, Nero placed his hands around one of his slimy arms. False tendrils - if he could shape the end into fingers, he could at least begin to focus on it. Most sculptors would recommend beginning with the larger shapes, but Nero was no sculptor.   
  
As the slime began to feel a little more solid in his hands, Nero began to focus. It was almost a little bit like alchemy, or any other craft. Fingers were like closed-off pipes, right? If they were welded together, connected to gears so they could shift. That would give him workable hands. Not perfect, not worn by so much work and those ever-so-faded scars. Hah, though. Cid would have two hands again, even if Nero pondered if he could reshape him to have more. It wouldn’t be right to make him stand out more then he already does.   
  
It was Cid who knocked Nero out of his focus, his lips touching the metallic fingers he’d created. “Nero, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” Cid said, his new hand trembling at the oddly harsh kiss. “I’m not made of metal.”   
  
“…Yes, you’re made of flesh,” Nero commented, his lips remaining so close to the shimmering skin he’d crafted. “Quite inconvenient. It’s how your arm burned away.”   
  
Sighing, Cid leaned back a little - sliding slightly backwards on the metal-crystal ground. “That was the past. You lost a hand as well, if I recall.” It was when they were but in the academy - a failed Magitek engine. While he’d lost half an arm, Velas’a lost his legs, and Nero got off nearly injury free. It was probably because he was an automation… but then again, as Cid trembled at Neros’ kisses, he couldn’t help but grunt a little. Every little kiss turned the metal to flesh, but… “How didn’t you figure it out, Nero? That you were a robot.”   
  
Pausing mid-kiss - taking a moment to use his tongue a little (for Nero had heard that was romantic, from slackers under him), Nero couldn’t help but look up at Cid a little. “…It never occurred to me - you’d lost quite some liquid, but I was always better then you.”   
  
Liquid. In other words, blood. His lips returning to Cids’ arm - moving up it - Nero purred a little. Cid gave a soft grunt back, beginning to put his formed hand to Nero. “Nero—” he began, before stopping. Just as he knew he was a man, perhaps Nero knew he was a robot, deep down. Even back then - they’d both lay back and sometimes, Cid swore he saw that same anger that he felt, Nero staring at himself and trying to hold back. “You’re doing well, Nero.”   
  
“I don’t need your complements,” Nero replied, resting his head a little on Cids’ shoulder. It still wasn’t solid, but Nero liked the softness. The warmness. “I should have known I was this. It was… an oversight, that I didn’t.”   
  
The two were quiet, Nero returning to his work, the sounds of the machine filling their ears. Moving to his chest, Nero let his hand rest over Cids’ heart. Where it’d be. Even though it was gooey and an ever so soft glow, Nero was jealous. Why? Why did Cids’ heart need to beat, why did it need to feel so damn relaxing? He had work to do. Moving his lips up to his neck, Nero began to caress Cids’ solid arm. His hands seemed to solidify more of the oozing body - moving down the soft blue back, turning the skin flesh-coloured. It was crafting. It had to be softer, it had to be like how Spoken felt. And under that skin, Nero had to try and recall any scars he could. Even reborn, Cid shouldn’t have skin too perfect.   
  
Consumed by thoughts, Nero didn’t even seem to notice his lips had locked with Cids’ lips. Nero didn’t notice how he closed his eyes, pushed into Cid, the two of them slipping to the ground. Letting the darkness and the roughness of Cids’ lips consume him, aggressively pushing into him, putting his weight on the other. Cid responded in kind, as his lips and tongue turned solid again - if not metallic, a metal tongue which could push into Nero so very roughly. There was nothing they deserved more then roughness, then pain. Breathing into Nero, Cid let out the softest growl. As his body continued to form, Cid tilted his head - letting himself keep his eyes open, letting himself continue to tingle from not only these sensations of skin growing (oddly, not hurting - or not oddly, for this was not usual) but also from the passion Nero showed.   
  
That is, until he felt Neros’ hands roaming towards his thighs, so very casually. Moaning louder, Cid pulled his lips away for a moment. Before Nero could talk, Cid put a hand to Neros’. “…You can… make me however we both want,” Cid whispered, suddenly feeling out of breath. Was this right to ask? It had to be. “Nero— you could give me a dick.”   
  
A moment seemed to pass, with the two staring at each other. Chuckling a little, Nero nodded. “What, give you something I don’t have?”   
  
“…You don’t have one?” Cid asked, peering down a little at Nero.   
  
Nero shrugged, sitting up on Cid. “Look at me, Garlond. I’m flatter down there then a freshly plucked Lalafell.” Really, Nero would have compared himself to another of the Six Races, but he was never interested in that kind of thing. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice - I’ve been naked this whole time,” Nero said, as his face became flushed once again.   
  
Pausing for a moment, Nero continued. “But I’ll do it. I’ve seen plenty of them.”   
  
Cid couldn’t help but let out a snort, but softly smiled up at Nero. “And how’s that, Scaeva?” he inquired, beginning to feel his other arm solidify - even without Nero touching it. Must be part of being a Child of Omega. More and more of his body was formed - but instead of focusing on any form of genitals, Nero moved his hands down - down to where thighs were forming.   
  
Shaking his head, Nero sighed. “You see a lot of them in communal showers, Garlond. Not that you’d ever need to use one - it’s more… commoner then you’d ever be comfortable with.” As his glowing fingers gripped to the soon-to-be-returned Garleans’ thighs once more, Nero felt his face grow hot again. No, he couldn’t let himself get distracted by this oddity. There was one part of Cids’ face that wasn’t right - no, not just the fact his hair seemed to drip slightly, even as it grew semi-solid. (Even when this was done, Nero thought, Cid might find a use for this form. He’s always been good at that. And everything else.)   
  
Another kiss. But this time, on his forehead - where there was a lack of his third eye. It wouldn’t be the same - it couldn’t be. Could Cid harness his aether now? Could Cid turn to the art of magic, keep the two of them warm? That was something they could test later, as he moved his fingers further down. Odd - as he moved down past the formed knees, his blush vanished. Was there something about the thighs that made him feel hot and bothered? Nero… hoped that wasn’t the case, as he opened his eyes once more.   
  
Cid was smiling that damned impressive smile, as Nero pulled away - his jewel returned. Now, even if nothing else, Cid would be able to return to piloting like a reckless madman. But now, he had to pay attention to form these toes. Each one was small, like an orb, except there was a bigger one inside. Another thing Nero didn’t understand, but that he couldn’t ask about. He had flat feet without these separate toes, instead having feet which were segmented - his final segment glowing just like his fingers.   
  
As Nero separated each toe, however, he couldn’t help but let his fingers linger between them. Goo turning solid, slightly rubbing against his own fingers, oddly wiggling as they formed. “That’s all of you,” Nero said, as he pulled away - making sure not to look at that empty crotch. His voice beginning to crack again, Nero couldn’t help but begin to hear the machine behind them, and then he looked back to Cid. No, he needed to distract himself.   
  
Hands gliding down to Cids’ smooch crotch - skin already covering it - Nero gave a small tilt of the head. “How big? Should it fit your ego - or mine?”   
  
Usually, Cid didn’t mind Nero snarking like this, but getting his dream alterations… well, it was serious. Putting his hands to Neros’ arm, Cid gave the smallest of frowns. “Well, Nero, I’ll guide you though it - otherwise I might end up with the foreskin fused to the head.” At Neros’ frozen expression - a mix of fear and confusion - Cid sighed. “It’s not just a single shaft. Once we’re out of here, I’m getting you some books on the Spoken body.   
  
But for now, we’ll just work on getting this good enough.” It couldn’t be too long until G’raha was done - and before that, Cid would need to throw clothes on. (Well, hopefully Nero would as well.) His fingers trembling as they reached for Neros’ own fingers, Cid could feel that he was blushing. Unlike Nero, his blush was a soft blue - the glow of the slime coming though.   
  
Nero moved quickly, letting Cid slightly move his hands - slightly correct what he did. His fingers moved up and down Cid, shaping the shaft before moving backwards to the testicles - fingering them, making them firm enough to slightly droop, making sure the scrotum wasn’t going to remain shriveled like the sort Nero had spied. “You see,” Cid said, trying to stop his blushing, “this is where the sperm is made. It— Spoken make children with it.”   
  
“Could you build children, Garlond?” Nero asked - honestly curious, as he ran his fingers over them.   
  
Cid seemed to freeze. Could he? After a moment, he nodded slowly… so very slowly. “We can’t be sure - who knows how this body works inside. But if you’ve done your job… I could.” As Cid muttered - as Cid tried to hold back what he really thought, that this would be impossible but they’ve done this - tears began to run down his face. Only a few, but enough for Nero to sneer.   
  
Placing his hands to the shaft to continue sculpting it - oddly enough it had remained firm and erect - Nero couldn’t help it. “If you do have a kid, name them after me, would you? After all, it’s thanks to me you can do this.”   
  
“Nero, you nearly killed me,” Cid said, now trying to hold back a moan. Fuck, that felt good - even if Nero wasn’t the best at tact nor understanding, his hands were good. But before that pressure could build more, that feeling could penetrate his body, Nero released his fingers, slightly looking to admire his work.   
  
“…Garlond, is it meant to remain erect?” Nero asked, innocently. Cid shook his head - before beginning to stand.   
  
His legs were firm - instead, it felt almost as if he was standing in Magitek. Of course Nero would craft him like a machine internally. “I’ll— fix this. Alone.” Cid groaned, turning and almost limping out of the room. There was no way he could tell Nero what these feelings were, or he’d grow mocking over the fact that Spoken bodies were controlled by such small factors. It didn’t help that during most of that, Nero had been staring with such an oddly soft look - not common to the other man. Perhaps it was because he’d turned back from a giant robot, but even Cid could see how Nero was changing.   
  
Once again, Nero was alone - the last time he’d been alone was when he’d been with the old cold Cid, as that larger robot. His wings folding onto his back, Nero turned and placed his hand to the Allagan machine behind him. Not just his hand, but Nero felt himself beginning to hug the machine as the vibrations… slowed? Huh.   
  
Of course, Nero wouldn’t admit he was holding it so close, trying to reach though to the Miqo’te within. Would he still be Miqo’te? Nero hoped so. The idea of G’raha losing his quite elegant ears and tail was too much - but in all the Allagan stories Nero had read and absorbed, there’d been no mention of any Spoken other then the normal Elezen. And Hyur, but they were known as short-eared Elezen at the time and barely counted, in their eyes. And their other slave species, but they had no rights.   
  
A loud, long beep came from the machine, but Nero didn’t shift. Instead, his eyes darted over - the bar was full. Whatever had happened to G’raha, it was done. After a moment, the machine cracked open - and Nero began to scan over the stumbling Miqo’te.   
  
The first thing Nero noted is that the machine kept G’rahas clothes on and suitably wearable. An odd choice, but perhaps it was another quirk of Amon. But clearly, G’raha was taller, standing flat on his feet. A soft glow seemed to come from his joints, and his tattoos glowed in the same way. Really, his body hadn’t altered that much - and for that, Nero was glad. Sure, his ears were bigger and fuzzier - more like a Lupin, Nero’d say - but that was fine. Before G’raha could steady himself, Nero couldn’t help it - standing up, he wrapped his arms around the Miqo’te.   
  
G’raha felt fuzzy. The machine had made whatever happened a blur, a pleasurable blur - but for all he knew, he was okay. No longer did he feel the itch of his body dissolving, instead replaced with his mind both racing and remaining oddly calm. He could think everything over so much faster— could recall much more. But even with that, he slowly put a hand to the oddly trembling Nero. “…You’re hugging me?”   
  
Softly, Nero pulled away, giving a slight frown. “I simply wished to make sure your skin was solid, ‘raha,” Nero said, shaking his head. “Are you?”   
  
It took G’raha only a second to think it over. He wasn’t how he was, but… the machine he was in must have done well. If he was thinking like this, then— “I think I might be an automation now, Nero.” It would be logical - as G’raha looked at his own fingertips, long claws glowing that ever so light Allagan blue. Without much thought, the claws retracted - like a cat. Putting that other arm around Nero, G’raha couldn’t help it - he smiled at Nero, looking up to him. “This might help, though.”   
  
Nero tilted his head, and G’raha looked around them - and softly frowned. “If I’m meant to be the last pillar of hope for Allag - for the Crystal Tower - and for those who come here in the future? There’s a lot I need to learn and remember. And if there’s one thing I know about automation, it’s that they don’t tend to forget.” G’raha had been working himself to the bone… staying awake was a hard choice, after all.   
  
“…You’re taking this well,” Nero whispered, his voice growing weaker. He expected to be hated. To be rejected. But instead him and G’raha had slid to the ground, in a tight embrace - mostly the Garlean automation gripping so very tightly. “You’re— no longer Spoken. Doesn’t that bother you?”   
  
…Huh. G’raha pulled away a little - at least, he tried to - before deciding to just lay his head on Nero, comfortably. Beginning to let out a soft purr, G’raha decided it’d be best to whisper. “It does, a little. But I’d rather be alive. Besides, Allag has programs for their automatons, don’t they? I wouldn’t want you to have to try them out for me.”   
  
“You think,” Nero whispered back, “I’d let you? You might break me, ‘raha.” Really, he was joking around, trying to mask his cracking voice and dimming lights. Trying to softly continue to speak, to not let his weakness show. After a moment, Nero then softly let out a soft bweep - eyes flickering for a moment. “…At least there’s some good news, ‘raha. You still have royal blood.”   
  
“How do you know?” G’raha asked, tail beginning to flick.   
  
“…I don’t know. I’m still a mystery, ‘raha - but I can feel it. Perhaps it’s the Amon in me?” Nero proposed, giving a soft shrug. How much was kept inside him? After a moment, Nero grinned - letting his own body flicker blue a little. “And wait until you see Garlond - I made him look rather nice, for being him.”   
  
G’raha softly purred, resting against Nero. “Listen… Nero… there’s something I want to try out. If I still have that blood - and if I’m an automation - maybe I… have a little more control over this tower.”   
  
“More than absolute?” Nero questioned, but he began to stand - to follow G’raha. Softly smiling, G’raha looked up to him excited. The two of them— oh.   
  
In the doorway was a slightly-exhausted looking Cid, giving a smile of his own. “G’raha— you’re really okay,” he commented, until he felt the Miqo’te holding him - slightly digging his claws into his soft skin. “It’s okay - Nero reformed me.”   
  
While he talked, though, Cid slung some clothes to Nero. “Can’t make any clothes, though.” Not that Cid minded - but with G’raha around, he didn’t want to show his, er. Feelings. Not again, even if he enjoyed his time with Nero.   
  
Perhaps after this, they’d go longer.

* * *

The three walked though the crystal corridors, G’raha seeming to scan the area around him - seeming to take in information. Until, finally, he stopped in front of another door - another place oddly close to the ground. Had they moved underground? The two robots and the slime-based creature had lost track of where the windows were. But G’raha placed his hand to one of the many scanners, and the three watched as it slid open - dust moving for the first time in Era.   
  
In front of them were many terminals, filled with information. Books, as well. It didn’t take long for G’rahas’ eyes to light up - much faster then the other two, who were confused as he bounded in.   
  
“This, my friends,” G’raha exclaimed, “is the Grand Allagan Libraries. These machines are where Tomestones could be inserted— and then their information flows freely! We’ve hit the motherlode!” With every word, Nero began to beam - pulling at Cid. Now, he knew that Cid and G’raha couldn’t read Allagan like he could, but… this seemed like fun.   
  
Just the three of them, studying what was left behind. They’d go back eventually - to the Ironworks, to whatever was going on. But for now, couldn’t they simply read? Perhaps they’d figure out if G’raha truly had control - and if they were of use.   
  
No.   
  
Nero knew now - he truly was of use. But not because of being a Child of Omega, or something like that. Because he was himself, and he knew how to survive. Still, if his talents could come in handy, he’d stick with these two. His… love, Cid. And his equal, G’raha.   
  
It was almost nice…


	25. Chapter 25

It had been a week - or perhaps more, perhaps closer to a moon - since Alphinaud had vanished. In that time, Aymeric had taken control of Ishgard - many of those who would have protested it recalled the future or their voices were drowned out by the Heavens’ Ward - who’d decided it was better to align themselves with Aymeric, rather then dying again.   
  
But even with the support of Ishgard, there hadn’t been any sign of where Alphinaud had flown off to. Not even the group which went to confront Nidhogg had returned yet - though, if Alphinaud could be controlled, they’d be long gone.   
  
Y’shtola and Golbez had come into Ishgard, once Papalymo and Lyse had left the gates once again. Apparently, they had decided to go off and begin to awaken others now - but whatever had happened, there was no talk about the Gubal Library and the mystery of what was happening. Papalymo hadn’t been talkative for a while, to be fair. And Lyse seemed distracted from it - waving off questions with the fact the others would explain it later.   
  
Thankfully, later had come - screeching though the sky. It was the middle of the day, and there was a dragon in the sky - rather frightening for Ishgardians. Landing by the Manor, the dragon - Alisaie - quickly scrambled inside. Soon behind her, Moenbryda and Urianger arrived though teleportation - while Alisaie had rushed off, the two of them had finished preparing to leave the library, making sure it was locked up. Venat could still leave - as could Thancred, if he returned - but it would stop most from wandering inside. Truly, after all their studying, it was fine to return now.   
  
That is, if that was why Alisaie returned. As she ran in, she was screaming. “Where’s Alphinaud?!” she kept wailing, asking. She’d learned of the Eye, yes. But not what had happened. The only thing which got her to stop barrelling though, stop screaming, was when she fell into the grip of Edmont.   
  
After Artoirel had confessed his place, Edmont had been figuring out his place. One of his sons was a heretic, another was a Paragon, and the third, well. He was proud of them all, but still. And now here he was, holding a confused girl who was once a dragon. Trying not to freak out, Edmont gently placed his arms around her. “Calm down— Alphinaud isn’t here.” But before Alisaie could keep moving, Edmont continued. “We don’t know where he is.”   
  
“Then I’ll find him—!!” Alisaie snarled.   
  
Shaking his head, Edmont looked down towards the dining room. “He… was possessed by Nidhogg. We’re currently trying to figure out where he is—”   
  
Edmont, again, was interrupted - this time, by a long string of swears. Alisaie looked him in the eyes before quickly pushing him away. “I’m joining them,” she said, rushing off on all fours. Pushing himself up from the ground, Edmont couldn’t help but smile. Even dragon-looking girls cared for their family, it seemed. His entire family had almost been torn apart - even as he felt Haurchefant hold onto him again.   
  
His dear Haurchefant wasn’t angry at him, was he? For anything he had to do. As if sensing these thoughts, Haurchefant appeared again. “For an Ascian, the life of a Spoken is nothing. The… life of a bastard is not the nicest, but that’s simply how Ishgard is. There’s… no point fighting it, when you’re like me. Immortal, seeking another body once it falls.   
  
I don’t like what happened, and I can’t forgive my step mother,” Haurchefant said, embracing Edmont tighter - helping him remain stable, even without his cane.   
  
“But I like you.”

* * *

Nearly tripping over her tail and cloak, Alisaie rushed into the meeting room - nearly collapsing at the table. K’pandolu reached out to help her to a chair, but Alisaie snarled at the group. “As we told you, Aymeric, Alisaie is currently a dragon person,” Rhel said, not dropping a beat.   
  
At the far end of the table, Aymeric sat - somehow looking more exhausted then usual. Lucia stood by him - while Rhel sat near to them, Sasaxia was wandering around the table - only pausing to crawl up on Golbez - both the man and the dragon fused to him. “Have you seen Blieraux or the others?” Rhel then asked Alisaie, a hint of worry entering her voice.   
  
Alisaie shook her head, as Moenbryda and Urianger entered the room. “Can’t say we have,” Moenbryda said. “Oh, and Thancred and Bolormaa went off to study even harder - who knows when they’ll come back.” It was said casually, but really, she worried. After all, would they even return? Moenbryda hadn’t said a proper goodbye.   
  
Then again, that’d be like her. Just like last time, she hadn’t had a chance, if they were gone. Taking a seat - Urianger flopping on her lap - Moenbryda tried to mask her frown. “But other then that, we got quite a bit from the Gubal library.”   
  
Nodding, looking to Moenbryda affectionately, Urianger spoke next - sounding a little distracted. “In there, we found what truly happened to our realm.”   
  
“What you did to it, you big moron,” Moenbryda said to Urianger before kissing him on the forehead. “He was tricked by Elidibus—”   
  
“The one we knew as the Warrior of Light,” Golbez said, boldly. Gently petting their Shadow Dragon, Golbez sighed. “He was the one who began this - out of desperation. And he is the one who cursed me to be stuck with my pet, fused into my flesh. Within the Cycle, there were abilities we could unleash - augmenting our strength. When the Warrior of Light fell, he forced us to remain in these forms.   
  
A form which is stronger, but it torments some of us who remain awake. I worry for Terra…”   
  
Y’shtola nodded, from her place against the wall. “That’s why I left so quickly - Tataru, of all people, has offered to assist Golbez and I find Elidibus.”   
  
“That’s pretty suspicious, if you ask me,” Rhel said - but nodded. So they’d be seeking him - Elidibus. “Before he’s found, will you two be coming to aid when we find Nig— Alphinaud?”   
  
Golbez shook his head. “I cannot. Though I wish I could, I will also be seeking the Warrior of Light.” Though he was aware that term was also used in this realm, there was no other name to call him. Elidibus didn’t suit him - either the role or the name. Y’shtola looked to the group, and shook her head as well.   
  
Her own words seemed oddly quiet. “I wish to come along, but I think we need to bring Papalymo along as well. I’ve been healing him, but— he’s not been handling anything well. If he sees us saving Alphinaud, then that might help him.” It wasn’t just that, though, that Y’shtola thought would help. If his soul was still gripped with the thoughts of Shinryu, with the hatred and anger within, perhaps seeing another source which was consumed with that - it might trigger something. “With him, Lyse will also be joining us - as a Sylph, we’ll need to keep an eye on her.”   
  
“Please,” Sasaxia said, tottling over. “This One knows how to care for Champion of Man. Trust This One. But— if are needing Healing One, why not Lucina? Have not seen for long time.”   
  
K’pandolu sighed, looking to the desk nervously. “She’s probably dead, or—”   
  
“—That was another identity Lyse used.” Y’shtola said, interrupting the other Miqo’te. “In order to fel comfortable removing her mask.” Y’shtola was about to add more…   
  
…until the door burst open once more, a tired Velas’to standing at the front of that ragtag group - now with extra Estinien. Artoirel simply nodded to them before limping off, while Ysayle stood to the other side of the heavily ashen Belias.

* * *

It took a few minutes to get the group seated. Belias laid on the ground, hissing, glaring at anybody who stared with pity - even with his new scars, deep though his skin. Estinien, for his part, remained standing near to Aymeric. But Velas’to had flopped down next to his brother, and Ysayle sat daintily. “To begin with,” Aymeric said, “what did you see? Did you fight Nidhogg?”   
  
Belias snorted. “A fake. It was already deceased once we arrived. If those damned moogles had taken our task seriously…!!” Estinien nodded in agreement, before gazing over the party. Mentally counting who was there— until his gaze met with Golbez.   
  
When Golbez felt that gaze, he knew. Standing, he looked to Y’shtola. “…You may handle the rest—”   
  
With that, Golbez left - Belias snorting. “He still cannot face you. A coward - as I expected,” Belias stated from his position on the ground.   
  
Without waiting for anybody to ask, Velas’to began to regale their quest. “Yeah, turns out Golbez did some bad stuff? We met with Estinien pretty quickly after leaving, though ‘e was surprised we didn’t have Alphinaud with us. Right?”   
  
Estinien grunted, looking down to Aymeric - before he picked up on the story. “Alphinaud has one of the Eyes - we were to defeat Nidhogg, after he exhausted it of aether.”   
  
“Instead, he’s gotten possessed,” Alisaie said - her tail thumping on the ground dangerously close to Belias. “Why did you trust him with it, anyway?”   
  
“We’re gettin’ to that,” Velas’to replied, beaming a little. “Anyway, we set out and wanted t’meet with Hraesvelgr. Lady Ysayles’ friend, Vidofnir, helped us get some of th’ way - especially after we awoke ‘is memories.   
  
But once we got to th’Churning Mists, th’ Moogle weren’t friendly. I mean, less so then even Esti ‘ere said they’d be. Tricksters, th’lot of ‘em - that’s why we took so long even meetin’ with Hraesvelgr.   
  
But, uh…” Velas’to trailed off, his excitement dropping away. “‘e let us know that Nidhogg hadn’t come back with th’Return, once we restored ‘is memories. ‘pparently, there’d be a void of power - and so, the Moogles were even more them. No threats, y’know?   
  
Anyway, as we were headin’ back, Esti decided t’open up. Like we’re his friends?”   
  
“You’re not friends,” Estinien said, this time glaring right at Velas’to. “You needed to know. They do, too - Aymeric.” Since it seemed that Estinien was taking over explaining, Velas’to nuzzled closer to his brother, beaming a little. He was so a friend.   
  
As Estinien spoke, however, he removed his helm - revealing deep blond hair, messily tangled in a barely straight mess. “Estinien is not my first iteration.   
  
My name used to be Kain Highwind. Like Golbez, I was born in the fourth iteration.” His voice remaining calm, Estinien put a hand to Aymeric. “Unlike Golbez, I slept until recently. He atones though trying to save everybody - a farce.”   
  
And yet, it was a farce that Estinien understood. He, too, felt the pain of losing everybody - losing those he loved and cared for. But his gaze focused on Aymeric when Aymeric stood, putting an arm around him. “Which name do you prefer?” Aymeric asked, taking this oddly well. He reminded Estinien of…   
  
…no, he knew Cecil still slumbered, one of those who hadn’t awoken in all this time. But why would he have? Him and Rosa slumbered side-by-side, still injured from their home fading. From the Creator getting them all. “I am Estinien Wyrmblood,” he simply stated. “My life as Kain simply informs my decision.   
  
I was brainwashed before - not strong enough to prevent it. Golbez did it.”   
  
“…What,” Rhel said. But Estinien didn’t add more - Belias snorted.   
  
“He controlled him. Turned him against those he cares for. Using corrupt feelings of hatred. Golbez himself went under the same - but you cannot blame Estinien. For fears and pain both,” Belias said - though he doubted his own words, if only the smallest bit. Nidhogg was not the same as Zemus - from the tale he’d heard, Zemus had come when Golbez was at his weakest. For Kain, Golbez had done the same. But Golbez had remained awake for iteration after iteration, letting himself grow attached. He was a queer man, and one that Belias… understood, the smallest bit.   
  
“I doubted Alphinaud felt strongly enough for Nidhogg to claim him - when he offered to take the Eye, I did not refuse. But as my responsibility, I will help save him,” Estinien said, as Aymeric sat back down - Estinien finally sitting next to him.   
  
However, none of them expected what Sasaxia said next. “Alphinaud is Small One - same age as This One. Am knowing Alphinaud was not having what Bean Pole - ” Sasaxia, for her part, tried not to offend with her nicknames - calling Estinien Bean Pole semi-affectionately (he thought differently) “ - went though. But. Was still lose family. Was still become prideful one, and hurt all. Saw loss, saw pain.   
  
Then, went back - and still had pain. Sister became corrupt. Learned everything is dying. Am not blame. Small Ones can hurt, too. Sometimes, are hurt more.   
  
…And should realise it, Bean Pole. Are Tall and Stringy, should know better then Small One.”   
  
After a while to process it - Sylphic was still hard to understand sometimes for the crew - it was Velas’a who mumbled in agreement. “At his age, that’s ‘round when Father was recruited by the Empire. When me and my brother, Velas’to, were separated.”   
  
“You know,” K’pandolu said, looking to… well, everybody, “I think after we save Alphinaud, we’re all going to take a bit of a break. We all deserve it.”   
  
“We do,” Rhel said - before gesturing for Sasaxia to come over to her. As the young Sylph-raised Lalafell walked over, Rhel looked so pleased. “But before then - while we locate where Nidhogg might have gone, I’m going to take Sasaxia out for a treat.” Her own abilities weren’t helpful in seeking Nidhogg - that much was clear. And she had a few implications to mull over. But at the same time, Rhel really was proud of Sasaxia. The young lady often tried to remain cute and lovable, trying to mask the fire within.   
  
Sasaxia, for her part, gave a little glare back at Estinien. “To make sure Bean Pole does not run after getting eyes, This One is coming. Understand?”

* * *

But still, though their debates, nobody could figure out where Nidhogg had gone. Until a quiet voice spoke up, from the doorway.   
  
Doga.   
  
“I don’t mean to interrupt, but me and Unei have found something of interest,” Doga said, strolling in. “Though we haven’t been monitoring the Crystal Tower, there has been an odd power surge from the skies. From the direction, we’d say it was Azys Lla.   
  
…It’s similar to the power surges that the Chief ran off to investigate.” The two clones were worried. No, not just because Cid hadn’t had contact with them, but because if the power has shifted up there? He’d said it was Omega. But Doga continued. “There’s another power up there. Not the Warring Triad, either. But there’s something—”   
  
“—Scan me,” Alisaie said, stepping over to the two. “If it’s similar, it might be Nidhogg.” Without questioning how, Unei gestured - the dragon-esque girl following.   
  
Doga looked back to the group, frowning. “Even if it is not Nidhogg, we need to make sure the Triad does not escape.”   
  
The Warring Triad— Urianger suddenly stood from Moenbrydas’ lap, frowning. A single word escaped his lips - whispered, a slight panic rising though him. “Unuhalkai.” Placing a hand to him, Moenbryda tilted her head - and Urianger shook his own. “A child - my ward. I need to seek him - I apologize, but this is where we must separate for now. I shall return - I shall slumber by your side once more, my dearest Moenbryda.”   
  
And with that, Urianger was gone. Vanishing in darkness, before he could offer to assist more. Before he could offer to see what was happening around there. As he vanished, though, others strolled in. Others that made Doga turn and smile - Cid, Nero, and G’raha. They all looked okay - even if Cid still shimmered slightly blue, Nero was heavily cloaked, and G’raha seemed to be lighting up around the other two. Literally, lighting up.   
  
Cid was the first to speak up, frowning. “Sorry we’ve been away - things happened.”   
  
“Quite a few things - we can tell you later,” Nero said, putting an arm around Cid and G’raha both. “But on the plus side, the legacy of Allag is safe.”   
  
Nervously, G’raha nodded. “Yeah - safe. And, uh,” he paused, squirming away - mind still racing, “we’ve got quite a bit of information.”   
  
Before he could say anything else, however, Moenbryda had come up - to give him a little pat. (Awkward.) “Good to see you’re still doing well, G’raha. Looks like both our studies have gone well, huh?” Honestly, Moenbryda didn’t care about the slight metallic feeling. She hadn’t seen him much since the boat ride, and they’d been busy. But they were both scholars - not just scholars, but Students.   
  
G’raha patted down his hair again, huffing. “I got turned into an automation from one of the machines inside the Tower.” There was a slight pause, before Moenbryda laughed. “It’s not funny,” G’raha grumbled. “But it’s a little handy. I could— scan things. And if I’m an automation, I don’t need to take that nap.”   
  
“Wait,” Doga said, turning to him. “Really? You can use the Tower like that?”   
  
G’raha nodded. “And all the machines connected to it - or manipulated by Allag in general.”   
  
That happened to be the moment Unei and Alisaie returned - Unei gripping not only to herself, but to a rather large tome. “We— it’s— it’s similar power readings.   
  
Nidhogg is in Azys Lla!”


	26. Chapter 26

As soon as Unei had rushed in, the group got her a seat - though Golbez had not returned. Y’shtola had gotten Lyse and Papalymo on Linkpearl, so they could hear the plan.   
  
“This,” Unei said, presenting the object she gripped to, “is the best replica of the key to Azys Lla me and Doga could have crafted. But now that G’raha has control over Allagan machines, he’ll be able to help. Right, G’raha Tia?”   
  
From his place resting next to Nero, G’raha seemed to pause. “It should be right - but I haven’t tried too much of this. Been a little busy studying…” Still, he took the object in his hand - and his eyes began to flicker. Yes, he could manipulate this - but still.   
  
Unei then continued to speak. “As we suspected, the power coming from there is similar to Alisaie - who’s told me she’s currently Bahamut. Because of that, they’re both part of the First Brood. And both beings made of hatred.”   
  
Alisaie proudly beamed. “We’re going to save Alphinaud.”   
  
Nodding to them, Cid stretched. “The Enterprise should fit all of you - and we’ll be able to pierce the barrier, this time without a Dragons’ Eye.” He’d been working overtime - making sure it was fine, making sure everybody could fit and be ready for the pursuit.   
  
A hunt.   
  
It wasn’t long until they walked out to the airship landing - where Lyse and Papalymo waited. The first one to rush towards them, of course, was Moenbryda - even if she was staying behind. Somebody needed to wait for Urianger, after all. Wherever he went. For that Unuhalkai kid. “Hey, Lyse - doing well?”   
  
Sighing, Lyse almost placed her head to Moenbryda. “No, not really? Things have been a mess. I mean, awakening people to these memories sounded good, right? But…”   
  
“But,” Papalymo said, “it was messy when we went to see Raubahn.” Really, he didn’t feel like he had to say more - shaking his head a little, Papalymo frowned. “But we’ve recovered - I only hope he has, as well.”   
  
Letting go of Moenbryda, Lyse bounced a little - trying not to shiver. “It’s not gonna be this cold up there, is it?”   
  
“It’s cold in a different way,” Cid said, moving to the center of the group. “Now, not all of you are familiar with where we’re going - Azys Lla. It’s a hub of Allagan technology and science, hidden away untouched. We might be seeing some horrifying things, but our goal remains the same - capture and contain Nidhogg before they can absorb any of the power sources remaining.   
  
I know it’s Alphinaud, but we can’t hold back.”   
  
A lot of them couldn’t come, really. A lot of them were too injured or too far away - but this group could do this. After a moment, Estinien spoke - looking to everybody, as well. For a moment, his gaze focused on Papalymo - no. Must just be a trick of his mind. “Treat him as you did me.”   
  
In other words - they couldn’t stop, Nidhogg would kill them. At the same time, Alisaie frowned at him - before placing her tail to the ground. “You’ll need to regale us of how you were saved again - but let’s get moving. Alphinaud… needs us.”   
  
Cid looked to the group - looked to Estinien - before noticing others. Biggs and Wedge had come to see him off. Cid waved them over, with a frown. “As we spoke about earlier, I need you guys to continue in the Tower. There’s—”   
  
Running a hand though his hair, Cid wished they could come with. But looking between him and Nero, Biggs spoke up. “We’ve got this, Chief. When you get back, it’ll be both cleaned and secure. But we’re not sealing it this time?”   
  
“I think,” Wedge said, “it’s because G’raha is still awake with us. And there might be help for everything - for the whole time stuff? But, uh… is this really fine, Chief?”   
  
Was it fine? No. But Cid was fine with it. Giving a usual huff, he gave a nod. “We’ll be back soon. And—” Cid paused, trying not to think about it. “If there’s an emergency, call for us.”   
  
And with that, the group of Alisaie, Cid, Doga, Estinien, G'raha, K'pandolu, Lyse, Nero, Papalymo, Rhel, Sasaxia, Unei, and Y'shtola boarded the ship - knowing it’d take time. Time, hopefully, that they had.

* * *

In one of the private rooms of this ship, Cid rested on the reading Nero - giving an awkward sigh. “Nero,” he said, leaning down to give a slimy hug. “I don’t mean to complain about this body - for once, you’ve done well. But…”   
  
“You mean to complain,” Nero said, looking up to him lazily. “Please, Garlond. What’s wrong this time - did your mouth stop letting things in?”   
  
Cid drooped a little, sighing. “It’s not that, Nero. It’s just… my hair feels wrong. Guess it’s the lack of horns.”   
  
After a long pause, Nero blinked at Cid - trying not to sound too incredulous. “Horns.” Cid shrugged, pulling away from Nero a little.   
  
“Yeah, horns. Six of them. They were a bit of a bugger to polish down, but they kept my hair nice. You ever wonder why my third eye was blue?” After a moment, Cid slid in front of Nero, softly sitting in front of the lazy robot. Nero, for his part, had put his book away - now analyzing both his memories and the man in front of him. For once, Cid could lean over Nero - look into his eyes. Now that Cid mentioned it, his hair wasn’t right - Nero couldn’t help but quirk his lips into a frown. “It was another polished horn. I used to silver it - until that left burns on the skin.”   
  
Leaning closer to Nero, Cid could feel the tiny robotic vibrations on his skin. Nero was trembling - rare for the other man. But Cid didn’t stop leaning down, dripping a little. “Look at us, Nero. One of us was a robot, and the other had damned horns.”   
  
What Nero said next, though, gave Cid pause. “And yet, you managed to pass for the son of Midas. Managed to get it all, Garlond. What I wouldn’t give to know why. But maybe…” Nero paused, sighing a little. “I can still feel Omegas’ signal. It’s come up here too. Don’t think I’ll be able to take part in your grand final battle.” But as he lazily spoke, Nero put his hands to Cids’ hair - beginning to reform bumps under it. “Can’t resist whatever programming Amon put in there, afraid to say. My only flaw.”   
  
It felt almost nice, as Nero adjusted his hands softly across the back of his head. “Three on each side,” Cid said, “nice and short.” Though it would be painful if Nero wasn’t manipulating this ooze - if he was made of flesh and blood, it was calming - almost like getting rid of a headache.   
  
But as he sharpened the horns - they were covered by his hair, of course they were - Nero gave a soft sigh. “Really, Garlond. We’ve re-worked your body - what, this would be the fourth time? And you didn’t mention the horns before. Why?”   
  
Scoffing a little, Cid shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t eat while we were in the academy - we both got food delivered. And between you and me - I don’t think Velas enjoyed all the meat.” After all, Viera didn’t quite like meat. They could eat it, but it wasn’t nice for them.   
  
After a pause - his fingers lingering on the back of Cids’ neck - Nero let out a laugh. “All of us in that room, and none of us could figure out each others’ secrets! Truly, it could have been some form of comedy play.” Letting his hand relax, Nero softly closed his eyes. “We should get back up to those Allagans. We’ll be making our way in soon - and who knows? The Empire might be foolish enough to come after us.” Honestly, though, Nero was also curious about the way the airship would pass into the promised Allagan land.

* * *

Even after entering Alyz Lla, there was a problem. Inside this illusioned floating land, there was quite a few places the corrupted Alphinaud could hide. And without any real way to track him - reading aether was quite useless when there were so many experiments still running - the group had to think of what they'd do. They couldn’t hunt the entire area - by then, whatever Nidhogg had been planning…   
  
…wait. Looking to G’raha, Nero shook his head. “You spent quite some time studying while me and Cid weren’t doing so well. Got any sources on where something’d be able to absorb power from?”   
  
After thinking for a few moments, G’raha bit his lip. “…Most likely, the Flagship - why not drain the Warring Triad more? If I was a terrifying dragon seeking power, I’d do that.” As he spoke, G’raha stretched. It was something he’d hope to see, but he knew that look from Nero. He wouldn’t leave him alone here - there was so much to explore! The airship still shuddered forward, drifting slowly as Cid piloted as carefully as he could.   
  
Estinien snorted, looking to that group - before leaping from the ship. Before anybody could stop him, he landed on a nearby floating piece of land - before beginning to leap from platform to platform. Faster then them - of course he’d be rushing. “…At the same time, however,” G’raha added, “that’s a little too obvious. There might be another way, though - if we had a similar power, it might lure Nidhogg—”   
  
“—We do.”   
  
Turning, most of the group looked to the one who spoke - Papalymo, who now stood forward. “I could lure him. After I was— returned, was it? I’ve felt wrong. There’s been scales growing all over me.” With every word, flames seemed to form at the Lalafells’ mouth, fangs seemed visible. “It might be residue from before.”   
  
“Residue? Like…?” Lyse began, before Papalymo shook his head.   
  
“None of us were returned exactly as we were. Can’t you feel it too, Lyse?” As he spoke, though, he got out a small scrap of paper. The same one he’d gotten from the Sylph.   
  
“…Yda’s _alive_.”   
  
“—Are you serious!?” Lyse asked, suddenly kneeling to look at the letter. It was just scribbles, or…   
  
“It’s a code. But she is— she can’t join us, but she’s alive. And after this, we can go see her— but she was dead before everything. She wasn’t before.   
  
And I didn’t have dragon blood before - or whatever it is making me scaled. We can’t just believe in what we had before, Lyse.” As Papalymo finished, he could feel more of the group around him. Especially Y’shtola and Moenbryda, looking to the coded message harshly. “I’d like to save Alphinaud. I don’t know how he’ll do after this - but I’ll lure him.”   
  
But then, Sasaxia spoke up. “Am have question.” As Papalymo looked to her - expecting another of her silly Sylphic questions - Sasaxia frowned. “If are having Nidhogg blood, are thinking is same for Bean Pole? Bean Pole was possessed twice.”   
  
Trying to mask his smile, Papalymo looked to the clouds - to the sky. “I don’t know. But if he’s going out that way, then perhaps he thinks he knows where Nidhogg would go.”   
  
“I don’t know,” Rhel said, her tail lashing. “For all we know, Nidhoggs’ blood still sings to him.” Papalymo nodded at that, frowning. There were so many questions the group had - but this time, they were questions simpler. The mind of a dragon driven mad, and the man who hunted him - they were simpler then what they’d been fighting.   
  
Lyse peered off the side of the airship, Alisaie next to her. “Do you think we can save him, then? Alphinaud, I mean.” She hadn’t seen them save Estinien, nor had she heard much of it. Like usual, she was in the dark. Like usual, she didn’t even know her dear sibling was alive - but next to her, Alisaie snarled.   
  
Looking into the air, Alisaie seemed to be sniffing between snarls. “We’ll save him,” is all she felt she needed to say - trying to focus. She could feel something - or was it Bahamut who felt it? Something familiar, something longing—   
  
The group was interrupted by not just a snarl, but a hot blast of flames. Glancing to where it’d come from, the group tried to see what it was— a blur, fading into the mists. Another blast of hot air blasted out at the group, aiming for the airship. Quickly moving towards the controls, Unei noted that Cid and Nero both seemed to be gone - as did G’raha. Damnit— they were the pilots here, not her - when did they sneak away?! Was it when they were talking to Papalymo - why would they leave now? Doga and Unei both needed them right now - or so they thought.   
  
As the airship lifted more, as it sped up, the two clones seemed to work in unison - dodging blasts from the hidden beast. None of them had a plan. And yet, they had to do this - both dodge and lure. Was it possible? For the sake of everybody - not just those on the airship, but those who lay below, with whatever Nidhogg desired here?   
  
Everybody hoped so.


	27. Chapter 27

Venat had not been lying, when they had said that time flowed differently in the corridors of the Library. Were the two of them - Thancred and Bolormaa - still in the library? Books had vanished to aether, footsteps didn’t seem to touch anything. Bolormaa gripped to Thancred, her fingers digging into his feathers. But as they walked for what felt like forever, tiredness nor hunger filled their bodies. Though the two of them talked a little, words seemed to fade into nothingness. At one point, Thancred had felt a pang of discomfort, removing his shirt - barely noticing his wings growing in, growing larger.   
  
That is, until the nothingness seemed to expand eternally in front of them, except for a soft blue door on their path, oddly shimmering. Thancred looked to Bolormaa, and gave her a firm nod. “Well, it’s not the strangest thing we’ve found,” Thancred said, softly. “Can’t be worse then the Silent Bees, now can it.”   
  
With that, Thancred opened the door… his hands seeming to glow a soft white. Entering the door cautiously, it vanished between the two…   
  
…but in front of them was not Hydaelyn, nor a void. No, it was a comfortable little room - lit by a slightly hovering fire elemental. Well, it was hovering, but also devouring… something. The windows, long-unused, were covered in a fine white dust - curtains ripped to the ground and slightly charred, unable to mask the unending void outside. As the elemental saw the two enter, it swiftly moved to a fireplace - letting out a grumble. It settled, and light filled the room - bookshelves becoming more and more visible, overflowing with books in all languages. They lined all the walls, except for one with stairs - lined with the softest blue glow.   
  
From those stairs, however, footsteps soon began to echo though the room. Bolormaa gripped to Thancred, as he focused on it. It didn’t take long for them to see…   
  
“…Minfilia…?”   
  
Standing before Thancred and Bolormaa was the white-gowned shape of Minfilia, the form she’d been blessed with. Her eyes, however, were not filled blue - they almost looked normal, like she had as a Hyur. A tense moment passed between the two, before Minfilia approached - and wrapped her arms around Thancred. Looking up to his face, her voice was clean. “Thancred— Thancred. How did you get here—?!”   
  
“Followed the words of - Venat, was it? Quite the charming lady, but I offered to visit in her place,” Thancred replied. As he spoke, Thancred couldn’t help but let his wings puff up a little, keep one arm on Bolormaa as the other was placed around Minfilia. “To— check on the state of the world. But I also want to figure out some of it for myself.”   
  
Minfilia couldn’t help but chuckle - even now, Thancred ran his mouth when he was nervous. Gently, she guided him to the couches around the fireplace - it felt almost cozy, to the three. Bolormaa quietly looked away as the two began to talk - letting them get closer and closer. She’d simply wished to see Minfilia— she really did look just like her, without the Au Ra scales and tail, huh…   
  
“I’ve met Venat before,” Minfilia said, as she rested on top of her siren Thancred. “They have come to visit, before our star existed. Are they well?” Thancred nodded, and Minfilia continued, closing her eyes. “It’s… strange, holding all this knowledge. But it’s okay.   
  
Even if Eorzea will not be.”   
  
Before she or Thancred could talk, though, Bolormaa spoke up - her usually soft voice dropping to a harsh hiss. “Eorzea must be okay - we do what we must for Hydaelyn. I’m one of her chosen— are you to say we are to fail? Even if we do our best?”   
  
Minfilia looked over - before gesturing a little to the Au Ra - for her to join the cuddle pile. Even though Bolormaa didn’t move, Minfilia frowned. “…This does not concern simply our star - it concerns all stars. But— we are aiding. I am aiding - as many have done before, and as Lady Cosmos has blessed me to do now, in her place.”   
  
Thancred let out a soft confused chirp, but Bolormaa sat on the floor - across from them, the flame elemental behind her. “Aiding? Is that what we must do…?”   
  
We. Minfilia turned to face her, and saw that look. A glare, mixed with a small bit of pity, eyes glimmering with— oh. “…I have watched ever since I vanished, though I tried to remain. After the Return, my spirit was pulled in two directions - for I was needed to aid Hydaelyn. But part of me wished to remain with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn - with my family.   
  
Hydaelyn kept asking for my return, and yet, I could not. Eventually, She offered… to let both happen. I would return, but part of me would remain, given form. My will… and my desire to aid Eorzea.”   
  
Finishing her explanation, Minfilia looked straight to Bolormaa - wondering if it was enough. If Bolormaa understood. After a long time, though, Bolormaa shook her head. “So… I’m simply you. But less powerful - just a copy?”   
  
“No.” Minfilia was forceful as she spoke, sitting up on Thancred. “Even if you are my will, you are not me. We both think differently, and see the world differently - even if we begin from a similar point. A lot like many Warriors of Light.”   
  
Letting herself catch her breath, Minfilia continued. “Many Warriors of Light are created - though the world shifts to let their histories flow in - only a little before they begin aiding their star. At the same time that Alisaie and Alphinaud arrived in a city-state is when they begin to exist.”   
  
Thancred began to brush his claws though her hair, as Minfilia looked back to him. “Even before Reset, time didn’t flow correctly? Is that what you’re saying?” Thancred asked, letting out a soft chirp.   
  
Minfilia nodded. “Our star - do you know the term iteration?”   
  
“We do, a little,” Bolormaa said. “Golbez mentioned it, and Haurchefant explained a bit more. They’re… times between where a strange meteor ends worlds, right? Because of the Crystal? And ours is the fourteenth.”   
  
“…We can discuss that later - there is much Golbez does not know. Much many do not know,” Minfilia stated. “For now, however, our iteration has always been queer. It is a little like the eleventh - the star which Shantotto came from.   
  
In iterations such as ours, there is no one Warrior of Light, nor one true hero. There are close to a million - each existing as the Warrior of Light. When they must fight Primal or search dungeons, the Echo - my Blessing - allows them to see these other timelines.” Her Blessing - Minfilia, after all, was still one with Hydaelyn. But her form was stable, as she rested more into Thancreds’ casual grooming. He couldn’t help but notice flecks of crystal in her hair - it must be frustrating, having it that long. “Ones such as ours are rare - that multiple Warriors of Light get to exist together. It may be because of Reset, or it may be because of a greater power then even I.”   
  
Bolormaa couldn’t help but inch closer, to the oddly small table between her and the group - resting her head on it. “I thought Hydaelyn - our dearest Mother - was strongest of all. Is there stronger?” Was it Zodiark, Bolormaa wondered.   
  
Softly smiling - hopefully, Bolormaa would cuddle with them - Minfilia shook her head. “I am unable to see though timelines - I do not hold that strength. But I hope to aid those under me…   
  
…that is why I let go, and returned here.” Even gods weren’t strong enough, but after a moment, Minfilia whispered again. “There was one iteration where all timelines became one - but it did not end well, for that star. The eighth - it ended once time compressed.”   
  
“Time Compression,” Thancred repeated, looking between the two. “Venat mentioned that. It was similar magic used to bring on the Reset. Do you know anything about it…?”   
  
After a moment, Minfilia sighed, relaxing into his hands. “I’m sorry - I don’t. There’s many books here, but… there’s a lot more to be concerned about. Can’t you ask Venat more? They would have seen it first-hand.”   
  
Thancred paused, his claws moving from her body to simply limply dangle from the couch. “…Really. Golbez is from an earlier one, or so it sounded like,” he said, “but you think Venat is the best choice?”   
  
“Venat is Ivalician,” Minfilia explained. “Ivalice was born at the same time as the seventh - the first time the seventh woke, that is. The Occuria - the species Venat comes from - were born then, and didn’t fade. A lot of the seventh remained existing in other iterations... not simply in My Realm. And so—”   
  
“—your Realm?” Thancred asked, softly. Minfilia nodded.   
  
“My Realm - the souls of those lost in the Fall of Iterations live here, waiting for a safe new world. They live within an artificial star, one which comes to stars when planesgorgers come to devour. Planesgorgers are part of the will of Shinryu, and the sign of a collapsing iteration.”   
  
Taking it in for a moment, Bolormaa spoke up again, her head rested softly on the table. “…Golbez spoke of the strange meteor. That was— is you?” It would make a little twisted sense. The fear that the strong mage felt was misplaced - and, besides. How many stars would fall to meteors? Wait… Bolormaa let out a small gasp, as Minfilia nodded softly. “What about Dalamud— were you to come during then?”   
  
It took Minfilia a bit to consider that question, relaxing back into Thancred - who, for his part, seemed okay with being laid on top of. At that point, she wasn’t one with Hydaelyn - but she could still ask, still gain those memories. “Dalamud is one reason that our iteration is… unique.   
  
It died once before, but came back to life. We— not even Hydaelyn is aware of how. But it’s… good. To think that an iteration could die and then come back - it brings hope. Even if - even if the Reset could not go to before the Calamity.”   
  
Urianger had tried, though - tried to fight the entire world. Minfilia continued, putting a hand to Thancreds’ arm wings. “It was attempted, and… Eorzea altered. You used to be Hyur, Thancred. Only beings outside the Source would remember…”   
  
Thancred couldn’t help but sit up a little at that - letting out a confused tweet. Hyur - him? Really, he couldn’t see it - he fit as a siren. But he trusted Minfilia, as she parted his feathers. “Urianger really did a number on Eorzea, didn’t he?”   
  
Chuckling a little, Minfilia looked back at him - eyes half-closed. “He did. But… you’re all happy, aren’t you?” Looking from Bolormaa to Thancred - to even the fire elemental a little - Minfilia sighed. “I miss you all. But I need to do this - I need to protect my people.”   
  
“I’ll stay with you, then,” Thancred said. But Minfilia shook her head.   
  
“They need you, Thancred - but you can stay for a while. While here… time is at my beck and call. They’d not need to miss you… either of you.”   
  
Either of them, because - well - she could see that Bolormaa had the same fire, the same curiosity that fueled Thancred. “While here… you can study, both of you. There’s plenty here from other iterations - perhaps you can bring it back to aid your people.”   
  
Thancred shook his head. “…We won’t just be aiding Eorzeans with this, Minfilia. I’ll find a way that you can come with us. We’re family. You, Bolormaa, and I - we’ll be together.”   
  
…Family. It was something Thancred danced around. Not just with Minfilia, but with Bolormaa. If Bolormaa was the will of Hydaelyn, then she was part of this half-formed family. He would protect Minfilia, and bring her back from a life cut short - even if he didn’t know how long he would linger here. Before Thancred could speak more, though, Minfilia frowned. “Didn’t you wish to figure out things that Venat could aid with?”   
  
Laughing, Thancred nuzzled into her, his head feathers standing up a little like a birds’ crest. “We could ask them - or, we could study here and figure out things for ourselves. I think it’s nicer to stay with you. Don’t you?”   
  
There were many things about the siren Thancred that Minfilia was curious about. He was different - a lot of them were. Thancred was a siren, Lyse was a sylph - and then there was the strong powers she felt. In her studies of other iterations - and learning from other beings connected to the Gods - Minfilia had seen a few things as fact. The first was that in the final iteration before the planesgorgers succeeded and Shinryu gained more power was that chaos tended to reign - the world seemed to break. This was it, the iteration was to end and another was to be born. The second was that, well… she spoke up again, as she finally felt Bolormaa flop onto her into a hug.   
  
“Shinryu has children.” As Minfilia said this, Bolormaa let out a soft gasp - before wrapping her thin arms around both Minfilia and Thancred. Continuing, Minfila contently headbumped Bolormaa. “One for each iteration. This… child is the one who’s meant to lead the end of their iteration. But it rarely ends up that way.”   
  
Her eyes lighting up, Bolormaa grinned. “So there’s another dragon out there - Alisaie’ll be pleased. Maybe she’ll get to spar them!” Even now, Bolormaa cared for the others in the Scions - was this because of how she was born?   
  
…No. It was because of who she was. She’d come for answers, and she’d gotten them. Even if more answers would come - with however long they’d spend here, outside of time.

* * *

However, far outside the realm that Minfilia slumbered in, there was another who seeked answers. Another who’d stumbled away while in Alyz Lla, a familiar haunting cry echoing though his head. Nero had tried to ignore it while going though the fabled land, but Omega was there. Omega was awake and had gone there ahead of them. As soon as the airship had begun to slow, as soon as Nidhogg had approached, Nero had begun to stumble off - only relenting when Cid offered the Falcon to share. G’raha had insisted on coming as well - the three of them could fit into the airship only because Wedge had made it big enough for Biggs.   
  
As Cid piloted, Nero barely mumbled directions - his gaze distracted, his hands barely glowing. Said hands were wrapped loosely around Cid, tugging when they made a wrong turn. It did not take long for them to find what looked like a shattered building floating though the skies. It looked almost new, stable due to the large automation wrapped around it, hovering. Omega was there, still damaged. Sparking a little as it scanned the skies, not focusing on any target - not even the three in the small mount.   
  
That is, until they landed. G’raha was the first out of the Falcon, analyzing the look of Omega. This was similar to the last time they were sighted in Allag, according to what he’d read. (It was still weird that he could read things so quickly now he was an automation, but G’raha still enjoyed the process.) His tail was twitching, and his eyes were focused on the underside of Omega - what parts were visible from this side of the wrecked Allagan building. It was all cut up - crystal scars? Or scars from the fight with Bahamut? Either way, the robot glowed a deep red…   
  
…and Nero then spoke, stepping towards Omega in a trance. “What a pity. He’s nearly broken,” Nero whispered, an odd kindness in his voice. “You woke up when I visited, now didn’t you. Sorry I didn’t stick around - I didn’t know what I was.”   
  
Omega barely shifted, but Nero was bathed in red light - mixing with the soft blue light coming from him. The automation towered over the group, even wrapped around the wreckage. Nero continued, hand hovering over Omega. “Isn’t this a wonderful place, though? The glory of Allag—”   
  
A deafening screech stopped Nero in his tracks - Omega made a loud sound, echoing all around them and fading into the skies around them. But, even with that, Nero kept standing. “Negative,” Omega said, the word seeming to echo in all languages. It could talk…? Omega could talk.   
  
Nero raised an eyebrow, and Omega continued, focused on him - not noticing G’raha approaching to analyze the deep scars left on them. Not noticing Cid staring between them, a mix of horror and disgust on his face. “Allag is not a place of glory. It is full of false power. They have interrupted my experiments, and left me unable to finish my primary objective.”   
  
“And that is?” G’raha asked, hand on one of the almost spider-like arms on Omega.   
  
“I come to each star, to create the strongest lifeform, though adaptation to that star. Once there is one able to defeat Shinryu, then it will become the next Mark of Omega. It will continue this task.” As Omega spoke, it stopped focusing on Nero. (Which, to be fair, was a hard task. Nero was basically caressing the robot.) No, Omega had moved to focus on Cid. Staring him down - though both automations seemed to flinch at Omega speaking, Cid didn’t. “You are not my objective.”   
  
Cid looked straight up to Omega. “Me—?!” he asked, pointing to himself.   
  
Omega continued, seeming to ignore Cids’ question. “Allag betrayed me. They broke the prime candidate - and gave him an inferior form. The creation of Alpupus was one which cannot be done in most stars.” Alpupus - the name Amon called Nero. So it was a name from Omega…? “The use of a soul is not one taken easily - and not one which can be repeated. This star is a failed experiment.”   
  
“If I’ve got this straight,” Cid then said - as he put an arm around the enraptured Nero, “you created Alpupus. And then you trusted him to Allag - why, exactly?”   
  
“Allag was the strongest. Amon claimed to share the same goals as I. He betrayed me. I shall end him,” Omega said - sparking a little. And then, Nero laughed.   
  
“Sorry, old man - I ended him for you. Me, and some heroes—” Nero began, before laughing more. Leaning into Cid, Nero couldn’t help but smile a little. If he was alone - he might turn to that big robot again.   
  
Omega, however, focused on the two. The close contact the two were doing - it was curious. Was this part of having a soul? But on the other hand, Omega only had one word to say. “Heroes.” So heroes existed in this star - but they existed in the other ones Omega had lingered on before. Unlike what they considered in other times when they had desired to craft and find stronger Marks, Omega was aware that even those heroes faltered. And they faltered often.   
  
Nero nodded casually. “Yes, heroes. They took down Amon, even after he slept for a while. By the by? It’s the Seventh Astral Era - Allag fell in their own hubris. Remember Dalamud? They abused it, and ended up dying in their hubris,” Nero said, proudly. Not for the knowledge, but being the one to explain it - as G’raha still inspected the scars.   
  
G’raha, though, let out a soft whisper. “…This can’t be closed.”   
  
Omega let out a clunking sound, shifting to look at G’raha. The boy with the Allagan eyes, but who moved like an automation. So they still used them - or so Omega thought. “After besting Bahamut, I turned my rage on the Allagan Empire. Alpupus was ruined—”   
  
“—you know, I’m right here,” Nero said. Omega let out a long note, and then Nero sighed. “I’m Nero tol Scaeva - but you know me as Alpupus. Can’t keep up with all these nicknames, eh, Garlond?” Nero said, smirking at Cid.   
  
Cid sighed a little, ruffling Neros’ hair a little - looking to Neros’ frown. “It’s not too much. But I would have thought Omega would have called you Theta, myself - it fits with the Weapon naming scheme.”   
  
“Weapon designation waits until a Weapon has metamorphosed,” Omega said - still in a monotone. “Nero tol Scaeva,” they then said to themselves. A failure of a name for a Weapon. But this creature held onto… well… “You are close to a Child of Shinryu.”   
  
“…Child of… what?” Nero asked, as he subconsciously put an arm around Cid - pulling him the slightest bit closer.   
  
At his questioning, Nero and Cid both felt Omega seeming to glare - even if the robot was calculated, it felt strange. Sort of angry? “On each star my experiments have been conducted on, Shinryu has had a child. An egg left behind, and originally, a test for my strength. They are now beneath me.   
  
The white-haired one—”   
  
“—Cid nan Garlond. My boyfriend,” Nero said - making sure to smirk harder as Cid looked a mix of embarrassed and grumpy. Sure, they were lovers, but did he need to mention it to Omega?   
  
“Cid nan Garlonds’ scans match with the other Shinryu eggs. However, there is a lot that does not match. He is malleable, made of offcasts. But he is also non-violent. It does not make logical sense.”   
  
Again, Nero began to laugh - doubling over the smallest bit. “Hah - me and him have been though quite a bit - not that he’d like it any other way. But if you’re out there to get stronger to fight Shinryu - then what, you want me to fight him?” If it was before the Return, Nero might have done it. No, there was no might about it. He’d fuck Cid up, in the worst way. Now, he’d still mess with him - but he’d already hurt him so much.   
  
“No,” Omega stated, slightly shuddering. “It is the goal of my creations to grow and adapt to the star they are born into.” To grow, and to become the best for the iteration - not that Omega knew that term. “Defeating and assimilating the Child is not required.”   
  
“You’re awfully friendly,” G’raha stated. Omega let out a long bweep.   
  
“My purpose is not to be fulfilled. This damage is too major, and Shinryu is coming. Alpupus is a failure. From my scans, Nero tol Scaeva is not,” Omega stated back, matter-of-factly. It twitched again, legs too broken. Wings snapped off. Back glowing a deep red. “I am Mark XIII. I adapted to fight time travelers. That is how Allag and Amon were able to abuse my abilities. I remain broken.   
  
…I came here for it is where power gathers. Let me slumber, children,” Omega finished, lights beginning to flicker. “Once Shinryu arrives, I will fight. You - Nero tol Scaeva, Cid nan Garlond, and…”   
  
“G’raha Tia,” G’raha said, “and— is there any way we can access your data banks?”   
  
What sounded like a laugh came from Omega - focusing on G’raha. “…I will allow this. My access areas are situated near the base of my wings.” Now, why was Omega doing this? Omega had finished scanning these three. Their failed experiment that had not failed, and a child of Shinryu that did not seem to be a fighter. And the third - they scanned more like one from a star long lost. Perhaps this could be a way to improve and make Nero grow stronger. That, after all, was the purpose of all Omega Weapon. To grow stronger, and pass that power on to the next star, once it ended.   
  
The creation and use of a soul, however, made Omega wonder as G’raha connected to them. Would Nero continue the path? Or would he become as illogical as one of these Men? That was why Omega desired to preserve themselves until the end.   
  
“…We should get going,” Cid said, quietly, after Omega stopped glowing. “They’re trusting us to be there - to keep the airship warm once Alphinaud’s saved.” Nero nodded, smiling a little. A true smile. He… knew now.   
  
And besides, G’raha looked a little shaken. “…So, what dark secrets did you learn from Omega?” Cid asked, casually.   
  
G’raha shook his head, focusing on the two. “…That Omega— trained against Lightning and her sister. In a time between time. They weren’t just harmed by Amon - they were treated as a friend by Serah - part of the crew. There’s a lot - how about I download it to the Enterprise once we return?”   
  
As the three climbed into the Falcon, G’raha couldn’t help but gulp a little. If something like that - like Omega watched and collapsed to as time broke - couldn’t stop Shinryu, what chance did they have? Did they even need to stop the dragon…? There had to be another way. The Knight of Etro couldn’t stop it though combat - and there had been knowledge handed down from many other Omega. (Though, curiously, not all Mark names had been used. Was there something the original Omega - Mark V - knew that Mark XIII didn’t know? Did it not experiment in each iteration - why wouldn’t it?)   
  
There had to be another way, there had to. And, unknown to G’raha, that was what Minfilia, Thancred, and Bolormaa were plotting - a way to prevent suffering, even if Shinryu was too strong for them to end in combat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally. the chapter explaining shit for bolormaa and nero. ngl, this was the one i was most nervous about posting.


	28. Chapter 28

The dragon soared, the dragon who stole Alphinaud - Nidhogg. He flew freely, darting close and far from the airship - nearly taunting them. Whenever it got close, there was a sneer painted on his face - seeming to guide them.   
  
That is, until Papalymo spoke - his voice trying to die in his throat, teeth bared. “If you want us, then come get us!” It wasn’t something he’d normally do, but. He was the lure, and it’d worked. Nidhogg began to dive at the airship, the Enterprise barely dodging. Before they began to turn away from the Flagship, however, the lights there seemed to dull the slightest bit - a distraction they didn’t need, as Nidhogg landed for a moment - only knocked off by a strong punch from Lyse. They had to get to more stable land, not have their airship explode from this fight.   
  
It was only the quickly learned skills of Doga and Unei that kept them stable, to be honest - the two conversing quickly in Allagan. A location chosen, the airship sharply turned. They had to head south - had to get to the Delta Quadrant. That was, really, the best plan the two of them could come up with. If they went too far, and if Nidhogg knocked the airship down, they needed a place Cid could find them. (Would he return soon - him and the other two?) Trying to move the ship as swiftly as it could go, ignoring the smell of flames, the chase begun.

* * *

Why, however, had the lights of the flagship seemed to dull? Due to the two there. Urianger had set foot there a few days ago, to wait. To wait, because he knew who would arrive - who would seek the sealed treasure within. Perhaps it was what Nidhogg wanted, or perhaps Garlemald would come for it again. Either could not be discounted - though on one hand, Urianger thought better of Garlemald.   
  
A mistake, or perhaps not, but small footsteps came from behind him. Came to where he’d come to sit, close to the containment bays. “…Thee shall not find signs of escape,” Urianger softly said, turning—   
  
—just as he thought, it was Unuhalkai - who stood, masked and impossible to read. “It tooketh far too long for thee to come and meeheth with I, Unuhalkai,” Urianger said - smiling a little at the masked boy. But instead of replying straight away, Unuhalkai wandered over - sitting next to where Urianger watched.   
  
“…Elidibus told me everything,” Unuhalkai mumbled, leaning into Urianger. “Even if they escape, there is not long left. Another Iteration is going to…”   
  
…It was going to end again, and Unuhalkai couldn’t stop it. None of them could. But what Urianger did next shocked Unuhalkai - he took the hand of the boy, tightly gripping it. Unuhalhai, however, tried not to show emotion - until Urianger spoke again.   
  
“…Fourteen have fallen - many more wait to be explored. I do not know what thy iteration was like—   
  
—it was no Shard?”   
  
Softly, Unuhalkai nodded - hands now gripping to Urianger. “It was before. I— was one of those heavily altered by your spell.”   
  
Damn. Of course Unuhalkai would have told him about what he’d done. But that’d mean… “You are not the same child?”   
  
Unuhalkai shook his head, still holding back tears - fear was frightening, yes. “I am the same. Think of it as… though I began from a different point, a different version of myself, I’m still… me.   
  
And you’re still you, Urianger. I do miss home, however—”   
  
“A feeling I imagine common,” Urianger mused, as he shuffled closer to the child. It was now dawning on him… the world was truly going to end. And Elidibus knew it from the beginning. Then why did he command them - why did he command Ascian to bring on Zodiark?   
  
As if sensing his question, Elidibus was there - stepping towards them cautiously. “Many have been seeking your wisdom,” Urianger stated, as he stood. “But Unuhalkai has been located.”   
  
“…I’ll go to them when the time is right,” Elidibus replied, taking off his mask - taking off his hood. “But thank you, Nabriales—”   
  
“—Urianger.”   
  
Elidibus paused. Elidibus inspected him, before shrugging. “Are you truly Urianger? How much of him lingers in you?”   
  
It didn’t take Urianger any time to reply. “I am enough of Urianger to know that I’m no longer taking your taunts. You began this, and I know you can end it.”   
  
“End it,” Elidibus said, mockingly. “No, this is far out of my control. Unuhalkai can confirm that - can’t you, child?”   
  
Nervously, Unuhalkai looked between the two of them. “…Master Elidibus has been watching me since my world ended. And didn’t at the same time. After Light brought on her new—”   
  
“Light,” Urianger questioned - noting that affection that Unuhalkai held.   
  
Elidibus chuckled. “He means Lightning. Her world created a paradise, but it fell without the one thing worlds need - the same thing that lures Shinryu.   
  
Conflict.”

* * *

Slamming to the ground after the airship - the same airship he’d been chasing and clashing at, Nidhogg snarled - this territory smelled of Tiamat. Tiamat, the one long stolen - a name that Nidhogg barely recalled. But the scent seemed to echo though his head, this pathetic Elezen head. Much weaker then the last pathetic being that he'd taken - hadn't he? Everything was a haze. The only thing that wasn't was, well. Where was a portion of him out there, standing and holding a staff. With flames and ice shuddering though the air, Nidhogg charged towards Papalymo - screeching with a draconian roar.   
  
It only took a moment, one wrong step, and ice covered one of the dragons' wings. Not enough to pin him, mind you, but that wing was useless. Nidhogg couldn't fly anymore, and Papalymo stared him down - expression shifting to the slightest of smirks. "Not so strong, are you?" Papalymo said - wincing a little. "That's my part done - I'll keep the Blizzard going! it's up to the rest of you now!" In the distance, covered in fog, there was another - another who didn’t want to watch.   
  
However, that didn’t matter to the group - Doga and Unei remained back on the airship, as Sasaxia jumped out first - running forward with her greatsword. The Magicite on it began to flicker and charge the blade with levin energy. Her first slash brought a row of lightning, blasting towards Nidhogg - the dragon dodging with a snarl, before blasting back at the Lalafell. Sasaxia knew - she could get the attention of the beast, keep it distracted with flashing lights. She was a Sylph, not a fighter - next to her slid K’pandolu, who seemed to give a firm nod. Shifting to the side of Nidhogg - huh.   
  
The dragon hadn’t changed Alphinaud, hadn’t used his blood to become fully Dravanian. Could he not…? He wasn’t one tainted by the past of Ishgard.   
  
But still, his tail lashed, and his wings were a weak point. If one was being blasted with Blizzard, then— “Rhel! You need to focus on Fire spells!” K’pandolu shouted over, as Rhel stood next to Lyse - Lyses’ neck glowing with the rock buried within it. Healing any pain, trying to stop Sasaxia from losing herself to the flames and bites the tempered boy gave her.   
  
Fighting was all well and good, but that isn’t what they came here for. Alphinaud was still in there. For a moment, everything seemed to be going fine…   
  
…until Alisaie suddenly tackled Alphinaud, breaking him away from the Blizzards and Fires. Her own wings spreading high, Alisaie roared in his face. Roared just like Bahamut, pinning the half-weakened Nidhogg. Nidhogg struggled - was this shell this weak?   
  
It was. But that was because the Eye was being used for two forms - a fact the group had forgotten until a scream was heard from the airship. While Doga tried to slash at the Carbuncle-esque abomination - black and scaled - Unei called for the group. Alisaie could handle Nidhogg it seemed - Papalymo gave her a glance, as—   
  
Alisaie bit into the neck of her controlled brother, snarling - glaring at him with no remorse in her eyes. For a moment, he worried - but Nidhogg moved to headbutt her, claw at her, and he understood.   
  
Bahamut could take down Nidhogg, even if Bahamut was controlled by Alisaie. In fact, it seemed like quite the matched fight - even as the two rolled around in the dirt, clawing and roaring at each other. As long as those two stayed occupied, then they could focus on the Carbuncle. It pulsed, eyes seeming to look around everywhere - focusing nowhere. The Eye of Nidhogg - the one used to sustain the Carbuncle - remained wedged into its’ neck. If they could crack that out—   
  
Hissing, the Carbuncle lunged for Uneis’ throat, until a well-placed Fire from Rhel hit it - making the beast turn and jump, land by the group. Tails lashing with dragon-esque power, it seemed to cut out, seemed to rip in all directions—   
  
—striking the fighters, and even cutting at Alisaie and Alphinaud. The two dragons roared, and for a moment, Alphinaud seemed to stare. Seemed to realise where he was - until Nidhogg took over again, seeped into his very soul once again. Sasaxia, however, beamed - that seemed to have rattled both of them. Quickly, she realized her role - and beckoned to the others.   
  
Rhel and K’pandolu had also caught on - as had Alisaie. They needed to—   
  
The Carbuncle was charging again, scaled tails slashing at the three - Sasaxia taking the brunt of it. There was no time to bleed, no time to worry about dropped glamours - as the Lalafell spat out blood, she smirked. “Is all, Eggnog?”   
  
As if replying, the Carbuncle leaped for another attack, to latch onto her - and bit onto Alphinaud, who Alisaie had shifted. It was too late for the Carbuncle to stop, or for the hissing dragon to free himself from—   
  
And so, the Carbuncle bit onto the Eye, the one embedded in Alphinaud. With a burst of aether, it seemed to explode - the eye falling inert, the Carbuncle vanishing along with the other one.   
  
They laid there, on the ground, as Alphinaud slumped in Alisaies’ bloodied arms. Shimmering, alluring - Sasaxia fainted as well, the two Miqo’te moving away from the Eyes.   
  
That’s when Estinien finally caught up - gaze focused, snarling. “Should have stuck with the ship, hm?” Alisaie snarked, as he glared.   
  
“Shut it,” Estinien simply replied, as he readied his spear. With a thrust, one Eye was gone - but the other—   
  
—was destroyed, a swift movement by another. Rose petals falling around them, a newcomer had appeared - looking back to the group with a huff. If Velas’to was here, he’d be able to identify her - not just that, but he’d be all over her.   
  
Lightning Farron stood there, her Gunblade closing as she put it down. Estinien rolled his eyes at her, but Lightning looked to the group. “We can talk later. You need healing.”


	29. Chapter 29

The airship was barely damaged - and once Cid and Nero rejoined the group, they returned to Eorzea. Their place in House Haillenarte was the best place for everybody to meet - everybody to finally accept what was going on. Sure, it was a bit much to crowd in everybody - but it was worth it. Everybody had returned there - from Urianger and Unuhalkai, to Golbez, to those who met with Omega. Even the injured had made their way in to the rather nice table.   
  
A gift from Aymeric, or so it seemed. Really, the only missing ones were Thancred and Bolormaa - but they still studied. Lightning - who’d noticed the way Velas’to spoke to him, but had more focused on the odd way Unuhalkai looked away from her - bowed slightly. “I came as soon as I could. Your iteration had a lot of guards to get past.”   
  
Y’shtola nodded to her, smiling a little. “I am glad you made your way here - but that would also mean we do not have long left.”   
  
“That’s right,” Lightning replied, shaking her head. “But you’ve done well. Many souls of this iteration are ready for their new world. Lucky - you’ve had more saviors then mine.”   
  
“Saviors?” Velas’to asked, as he tried to look closer. “You— did mention, back before. That you’d be back if we needed it.”   
  
“That’s right. There’s no need to tell you the whole story - you already know about Shinryu and the Planesgorgers. They came for my iteration - but the Gods were playing another game. Not for our sake. I fought to make a world free of Gods.   
  
It worked. And it still exists - though a God took residence there. A reborn Cosmos.”   
  
“Cosmos lives once more?” Golbez asked, voice seeming quiet. “Then the slumbering souls—”   
  
“—They’re waking. But Cosmos is not simply alive once more - her powers were given to another. The one Eorzeans know as Hydaelyn.”   
  
Silence fell over the group, until Y’shtola spoke up. “Your new world - it will allow us as well? Your world did not have Miqo’te, from what I recall.”   
  
But before Lightning could answer, there was a sound at the door. A familiar scraping - Lyse rushed over to open it. And gasped.

* * *

In the doorway, Thancred stood, his feathers long and beautiful. By his side was Bolormaa - the two of them dressed in robes befitting Time Mages. Hatless, but it was still clearly those robes, of the fabled class. The same fire elemental that had been with them in the realm between time lingered, wrapped around Bolormaas’ waist, barely flickering.   
  
The odd thing, however, was that with Thancred and Bolormaa was… Minfilia. Well, it looked like Minfilia, even if it was minion-sized. Not that Thancred seemed to care, as she sat on his feathered head. “I— couldn’t bring Minfilia back,” Thancred began, as Lyse reached for the doll. “But using a mix of Arcane Magick from the Twelfth iteration, and time magic — Minfilia can… see this. Be with us.”   
  
“I agreed to this,” Minfilia said as she gave one of her small hands to Lyse, as she felt the Sylph embrace her, “because… I cannot return yet, even after everything. There’s still much I must do before Eorzea falls.   
  
But… I can explain. And I can stay with all of you, as well.”   
  
Nero rolled his eyes, looking to her from his relaxed spot on the wall. “So what - it took him so long to make a mammet with remote control? I’ve heard of at least one Garlean who did that in a few weeks.   
  
I still don’t know why he pilots a cat - especially one who walks on two legs. But it’s not my place to question how spies get information, now is it? Not anymore.”   
  
Thancred shrugged. “She’s in another Shard, Nero. Now, I don’t know what you know about other shards, but they run on a different time scale.” Before he could say more, though, Minfilia stood shakily on his head - letting herself look at the robot.   
  
“It’s as Thancred says.” A pause, before Minfilia nodded to herself. “Thancred spent six years with Bolormaa and I - in a realm outside of time. It’s quite the craft. But—   
  
Is this everybody? I think… it’s time you all learned everything. Of the fate of Eorzea, and all iterations.”

* * *

“I’m sure,” Minfilia said to the gathered crowd, “that you’ve put together a lot. What exactly do you know?”   
  
“Well! Lightning was telling us a lot—” Velas’to began, before Velas’a spoke over him - giving a slight salute.   
  
“From what we’ve heard, we are to die and be reborn in a world created though the deeds of Lightning, and cared for by… Hydaelyn.”   
  
“Not only that,” Belias said, as he snorted from the ground, “but those who fell before are to wake once again. However, there are many questions - ones I am sure these others hold.” Belias was tired - he just wanted to doze off. He’d be sitting on a chair, but he was too massive. Almost thankfully for him, he’d become nearly a bed for the tired and injured K’pandolu and Rhel, who needed to rest off their battle. (Doga and Unei had sat the meeting out with Alisaie and Alphinaud, watching over the injured corrupted Elezen.)   
  
Minfilia gripped a little tighter to Thancred, nodding. “That is both correct and incorrect,” she said, softly. “You will not die. It will more be like… traveling though Aetheryte.” Looking to Cid for a moment, Minfilia frowned. “Not painful.   
  
But as for moving to another world, that is true.”   
  
“…What of our history?” Cid asked, feeling his fists curling up. Not only G’raha was one who remembered their past. It was not just their past that Cid thought of - but those who would be forgotten, mistakes that would be made again. “Will it vanish with us? Who’d go and preserve Garlemald history— who’d preserve things we’d rather forget?”   
  
“…Not only will people of there live, Cid,” Minfilia said with a frown, “but much will shape my Realm. As more iterations end, it is not just living things that have— do you know the term _Animulae_?”   
  
“Animulae - little souls. The Allagan concept that everything has a soul - even if non-living things have lesser souls, they still exist,” Nero spouted out, stretching and leaning his head on Cid - who didn’t shrug him off. “Commonly mentioned in Allagan Tomestone of Philosophy, from the Late Allagan Era.“   
  
Cid glanced from Nero, to G’raha - G’rahas’ nod was a good confirmation that yes, Nero wasn’t making up something. “So… because objects are Animulae… some of them will be preserved. We won’t lose everything.”   
  
“Correct,” Minfilia said— before Cid stopped her again.   
  
“Your realm. You— called the new world your realm.”   
  
Lightning scoffed. “If you’re trying to hide, Lady Cosmos, you’re not doing well.”   
  
It didn’t take long for Minfilia to shake her head, to deny. “Lady Cosmos faded. Hydaelyn gave me her will - and my will gave us Bolormaa. She, too, has a little soul - though she is a _Manikin_.   
  
…A Manikin is a false being, made of crystal.” As Bolormaa shifted, and as Minfilia explained, Lightning nodded - satisfied. Now, Lightning still wasn’t a fan of gods. But on the other hand, Cosmos had sacrificed herself - and had proven herself a worthy ally. She would not rule them, simply preserve their world.   
  
However, that’s when she felt a question bubbling in her throat. Thankfully, it was Rhel who asked it instead. “What’s going to stop your new world from being consumed?” she asked - Haurchefant sitting by her, combing though her hair gently.   
  
Before Minfilia could answer, however, Urianger stood up. “That is one deed I can shine light on - freeing ourselves from pain of loss once again.” Stepping towards Thancred and Minfilia - to the front of the room - his eyes gazed over the large group. To Moenbryda, and the fact that Unuhalkai had put his arms around one of hers. “While Nidhogg fell, I seeked out this youth. With him, stood the White-Cloaked Ascian.”   
  
Elidibus. Before he could be interrupted - told not to listen to him - Urianger continued. “He spoke of what may fuel a world, one safe from the destroyer of worlds. That is… conflict. Fighting may be one way, but it is simply conflict he spoke of.” Urianger seemed to slump as he talked. He didn’t wish to fight, but Elidibus had told him of the Cycles even closer - of that fight he’d done before. Though he barely noticed, Urianger could feel tears forming under his goggles. All he desired now was rest.   
  
Minfilia, however, tugged at Thancred - getting him to move closer to Urianger. Gently kneeling down so she could reach him, Minfilia placed her head to his, whispering. “You will not need to fight - there must be another way.” Even now, Minfilia was beginning to scheme - if Elidibus was telling Urianger the truth, they didn’t need to threaten each other, grow so very angry with each other. Conflict did not need to harm these people.   
  
Her people. Minfilia was interrupted when Thancred shifted, wrapped his wings around Urianger and gave him a warm hug.   
  
“You met with Elidibus,” Golbez then asked. “I desire to meet him, as well - there is no way to set up a meeting?”   
  
“There is not,” Urianger said, “but if you show your interest, he shall come. That is the way of Ascian.”   
  
As soon as he said that, Urianger felt a bit of regret - as Moenbryda began to grin at him. “So you’re like that, then?” Furiously shaking his head, Urianger looked back to Minfilia - who was also grinning. This was serious - why were they taking time to tease him?   
  
Thankfully, Cid got them back on track. “How long do we have?”   
  
It was Lightning who could answer, as she crossed her arms. “Four weeks. 30 days.”   
  
“…What happened to the other two days?” Cid asked - Lightning staring at him quite perplexed. “Four weeks - a moon - is 32 days.”   
  
Rolling her eyes, Lightning continued. “You have four of your weeks, then. I’d recommend you make sure you know where everybody you care about is - don’t know where they’ll land.”   
  
And yet, even with her words, the group mumbled between themselves. It wasn’t just the fact they’d have to accept this, but—   
  
—Lyse suddenly looked to Papaymo, placing a hand to him. “That letter! We should go answer its’ call before we forget, huh?”   
  
Shrugging, Papalymo looked up at her. “No time for rest? But I want to as well - we need to make sure it’s not a trap. Or a lie.” With the two giving a small goodbye, they left the room - and set out.   
  
As they did, however, there was a question which was bothering Y’shtola. “This new world allows everybody. What about those who hate us— those who will slaughter us? In the Cycles, we could wake again - what’s your solution now?”   
  
A good question - one that Minfilia nodded at, looking to Bolormaa. Looking to the Fire Elemental. “Some cannot handle the world we wish to create - one where we’d not need to slaughter each other. Those who cannot handle this revival can take other forms, until they can behave - until they can survive without slaughter. These flames by Bolormaa is one of those - I believe his name was Charibert.”   
  
Belias snorted, looking up again - so the one he’d slaughtered would linger in that way. “The New World is not lacking for flames - send him to Ramza, and he’ll change his mind.”

* * *

Of course, the East Shroud was as it usually was - or so it seemed, as the two arrived. But there were bright flowers around, covering the trees - and many Sylph celebrating, in their own way. Mostly involving milkroot littered around and nectar flowing, quite a few giggling and pulling at Spoken who happened to wander off the path.   
  
It was lucky that Papalymo didn’t move from the path, keeping Lyse behind him - Lyse dropping her glamour, for the smells were overwhelming. She still remained by Papalymo, though - pulling over one of the browning Sylph. “Excuse— Excuse, friendly one? This One does not know why we’re all celebrating?”   
  
Lyses’ tongue was still very Eorzean, even when she tried to speak Sylphish. But the Sylph seemed to beam, an older one - who was not an elder, but was browning and close to returning to the land - and spoke so very kindly. “Did not hear? Metal Ones left.”   
  
Papalymo turned around, looking to them - eyes wide. “—The Garleans are gone?”   
  
The Sylph nodded, doing a little twirl. “All the Metal Ones - and the Tall Ones with them - left. Was hearing yelling ones and angry ones, that didn’t want to go home.”   
  
Before the two could ask more, though, a blur of black and red seemed to surround them - and Papalymo could barely catch his breath as he looked up, looked into the eyes— well, yes, the eyes— of one he thought he’d never see again. “—Yda!”   
  
Now, Papalymo had seen her maskless before - but not with her hair cut this short, with no fringe. Straight away, he could see why - in her forehead was the pearl-like eye known as a Garlean eye. Her hair was pulled behind her eyes, but she had the same big grin he’d missed - the one Lyse could never truly mimic. But only for a moment - for Yda had begun to pepper him with kisses, like they’d never lost each other.   
  
Like they were still a warm couple. Papalymo tried to push back a little, catch his breath, but Yda didn’t seem to want to stop. That is, until Lyse gripped to her and pulled her back - examining her black and red dress, Garlean-native flowers sewn into it. “—This one— I didn’t know— sis! Big sis!” Lyse cried out, nuzzling deeply into Yda - not caring she was crying Sylphic tears.   
  
Yda bundled the two into her arms, beaming. “Sorry I’m so late - I’ve got a lot to explain, huh?”   
  
“That’s for sure,” Papalymo said, as he rested deep in her bosom. “You— were dead! What took you!?”   
  
“Well, I guess you can see this other eye, huh?” Yda said, letting out the softest hm. “Yda wasn’t my birth name.   
  
My name’s Ancilla Wir Galvus, from a branch of the Imperial family. But, well, I got caught up in Gaius’ conquering of Ala Mhigo, and ended up over here.”   
  
Letting the two take it in, Yda was beaming. “It was six years ago, huh? I was found again and taken home. But around the time Gaius finally kicked it? Solus demanded everybody get recalled. It’s been a long order to carry out, and I snuck out when we were retrieving troops from the Wall.”   
  
Silence - well, silence from the three, as Sylph celebrated - seemed to fill them, until Lyse spoke up. “…Do you know why? The retreats, I mean. It doesn’t sound good.”   
  
Yda crossed her arms - bringing the two even closer. “Dunno. But I think… I think Paragon are involved. I heard whispers of some dragon coming?”   
  
Papalymo interrupted her, with a soft kiss. “Us Archon - well, Scions now - know what that is. So they’re planning on…”   
  
“Fighting it, duh,” Yda replied, beaming. “Gosh, they’ve got the best of the best - even as Solus was dying, it’s quite a scary group. When I left, he was on his death bed. Who knows - my family might become the main family?”   
  
As Yda rambled, both Papalymo and Lyse felt themselves relaxing. Sure, they would lose Gridiana, they wouldn’t be here anymore. But they’d have Yda, and they’d be together.

* * *

Back in Ishgard, Alisaie was sitting at Alphinauds’ bed - alone, this time. He’d been stabilized, but his body was still mutated from his time possessed - and every twitch the sleeping boy made was pained. Alisaie had nearly dozed off, when she heard footsteps - turning, her wings folding quickly around her body, she saw Urianger. Well, Urianger - but he’d dressed himself in far more casual robes then his usual. “My dear lady, Nidhogg hath faded, and now, our mistake may be fixed.” The mistake him and Alphinaud had made, the one wherein she’d been stuck as a dragon.   
  
Alisaie stood, standing in front of him - closing her eyes. “…If you hadn’t done this, I wouldn’t have been able to save Alphinaud. The Spinner treats us well, doesn’t She?” Alisaie said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She softly placed a claw to him. “But I have a request.”   
  
Urianger raised an eyebrow - before he placed his hand to her claw, gently rubbing it - magic beginning to spark. “The tale of Moenbryda and I - our beautiful weaved history - has inspired you?”   
  
“Yeah,” Alisaie chirped, shuddering at the gentle magic. “I want to be able to shift - I mean, I don’t want to be stuck as an Elezen, or a dragon. And,” she said, looking back to Alphinaud, “I think my dear brother will feel the same.”   
  
Urianger thought so as well - as he felt his Ascian magic beginning to spark. Somehow, it felt stronger… was this what love did? Would it matter, if the iteration— if their home was to fade soon? It mattered to those he cared for, at this time.   
  
And that’s all that mattered, to dearest Urianger. To Alisaie, to everybody.


	30. Chapter 30

Still, as the weeks went on, Nero felt wrong. Not everything was wrong, but his lips quivered one day, as Cid woke. (Cid woke, he looked so cute waking, so cute getting ready. If Cid was meant to be the one to end the world, it didn’t matter to Nero.) This day, though, Nero had decided to try resting with his eyes closed. And, oddly enough, it was nice - he’d found himself falling into considering what he could do in a new world. If he could change who he was, if he could try out machines. When he’d scanned Y’shtola what felt like too long ago, that was what he felt - other worlds.   
  
Of course, he didn’t expect to open his eyes to have a long, snake-like dragon wrapped around him— oh. The skies had begun to become strange - rends in reality had become common. He’d felt his own body shuddering, trying to shift - trying to become what was most likely his native form. Well, whatever was thought as it - Nero felt far more comfortable as a man. He was Nero tol Scaeva, after all.   
  
But Cid… Cid looked cute like this, a dragon who was ever-so-slimy, due to his meddling. From quickly looking over his size, Nero estimated that Cid really was as old as he claimed he was. Casually stroking his hand across the dragon - hearing a soft grumble - Cid began to wake. Stretching, Cid froze as soon as he realised his form had altered.   
  
“Not long left now, Garlond,” Nero remarked, as he moved his arm away. “I think I’m going to go out today.” Of course, Nero wasn’t bringing attention to what Cid was. “I want to say goodbye to… where Ultima ended.”   
  
Cid let out a louder grumble, as he looked at himself. “Guess I’m stuck with you,” he said - a little bit of affection in his voice. “This feels different - but I still don’t like it.” Cid knew that Nero could reshape him - but, as Nero sat up, he wrapped himself around him. Honestly, he wanted to go there as well - it’d be lost when the world ended. So much would be lost - and people like him had to remember. If he’d been running, this was when he stopped - for people like him couldn’t run anymore. They’d need to teach others.   
  
“I meant to ask you, Garlond,” Nero casually said, as he shifted the small Shinryu-esque dragon around, as he got dressed, “you didn’t mind, did you? I’m still getting used to being polite.”   
  
“Don’t mind what?” Cid asked, as he tried to shift. There had to be a way - thinking of it? He wasn’t magic, he didn’t understand - even as his cut-off horn sparked a little.   
  
At that, Nero broke out into a soft chuckle. “Don’t mind me calling you my boyfriend.”   
  
“Hah, you’re thinking about that?” Cid laughed, as Nero slipped on his shoes. “You’ve changed, Scaeva. And I don’t just mean your wings.”   
  
Even though Nero could change to a man, his large wings couldn’t just fold away. Proudly, he opened them once more - Cid feeling his hind legs and tail raising on them, little white claws digging into them. The rest of his gooey body was a soft blue - though soft grey feathers and fur covered the top of him. He still had his hair - though, again, it was draped over his six horns on the back of his head. Still, Cid then paused - as Nero shrugged, his wings glowing as he folded them back up. “Really? I hadn’t noticed - oh, by the by? Would this be an inappropriate working relationship?”   
  
“Not any more inappropriate then Livia and Gaius,” Cid replied, as he eyed Nero up. “But you’ve become a lot more agreeable.”   
  
“Talk like that, Garlond, and I’ll have to break up with you,” Nero said, as he began to leave Cids’ cramped bedroom - he was going to fly today, and looked like he had a dragon along for the ride.

* * *

Nero was adapt at flying, of course, as the two entered the deepest ruins of the Praetorium. Flames had vanished moons ago, there was little left of Ultima Weapon. Even the bits which had survived the explosion had been consumed by the elements or raiders.   
  
And yet, the helmet remained - as large as the two. “…I wonder,” Nero said, as he put a hand to the dead Weapon. “I’m a Weapon as well - like Ultima,” he stated. “If I’d developed, do you think I’d be piloted?”   
  
Cid crawled off of Nero - though he still had a theory about how he’d turn man again - to look closer. Not just as Ultima, but… Gaius had fallen here. The man he’d grown to see as a father. And yet, he couldn’t see any sign of him. As he looked around, he turned back to Nero. “If you were a Weapon, I doubt you’d let anybody do that. Why, you’d complain if they weren’t you.”   
  
Laughing a little, Nero was busy touching his dear Ultima - almost hoping he’d see something else. Of course, he couldn’t. He didn’t have the Echo - well, he might, but he… “Do you think I’m an Animulae, Cid?”   
  
“Hm?” Cid asked, as he stopped and paused. Nero - Animulae weren’t spoken. He’d gone to read some of the translated passages G’raha had prepared. It was more a term used for machines, for those who had aether but didn’t have bodies of flesh - weren’t Allagan. In a way, though - “aren’t we all?”   
  
Nero didn’t respond, so Cid continued. “We’re not Spoken - or what they’d call them. A lot of our group isn’t. But it doesn’t matter - if they’d call us Animulae, then that’s what we are.” As Cid talked, he moved back to Nero - crawling back up him, climbing him so they were face-to-face - dragon to robot. Though Nero didn’t notice it himself, Cid did - they were both gently smiling at each other. “Now come on - let’s keep preserving this.”   
  
Without thinking, Nero gave Cid a kiss - and, just as Cid thought, he was a man again. If it had done it for Nero, then— perhaps the power of love was real. Or perhaps it was simply a way to channel his power, channel his thoughts, and now Nero was straining to hold him up. Before Nero could speak more, Cid kissed him too - pushing into him, a dragon-like gurgle coming out of his throat. This wasn’t a romantic place, it was a horrifying place, but this could make it a little easier to remember what had happened.   
  
Nobody else would do it for them. But together, the two of them, could do this.

* * *

Just as Urianger had said - if Golbez and Tataru both seeked Elidibus, he would come. Of course, location was important - he wouldn’t appear around people. Not as Eorzea died.   
  
It almost looked like a neverending field, the place that Elidibus had found them. He was quiet, looking to them both - the sun setting, the end coming so very soon. It had taken a long time to track him down - even with the help of Unuhalkai and Urianger. Almost as if Elidibus didn’t want to talk - because he didn’t. Giving a soft nod to the two - giving the slightest bit of awareness of who he was talking to - Elidibus didn’t bother hiding his face. Why bother? They knew the truth - that he was their old Warrior of Light. One long gone. It would be more tactful to begin explaining - begin talking to them as if they were his equals.   
  
“Without conflict,” Elidibus said, pacing between Tataru and Golbez - trying to read their moods, “an iteration cannot be sustained. It is this same conflict that lures Shinryu - either it falls to the everlasting wars, or it falls to nothing.   
  
When Chaos was defeated, my iteration ended. Lady Cosmos was long gone. But the world of Firion began.” Pausing, Elidibus bowed his head to Tataru. “The man who wore the Wild Rose gear - the one who first was gifted those words. He— he defeated Emperor Mateus, and yet his iteration still ended. This is when I began to learn my limits - and surpassed them.   
  
If I gave knowledge freely, if I altered events, perhaps I could create the iteration which would survive. One of everlasting conflict…”   
  
“…One like the war of Cosmos and Chaos,” Golbez said, looking over the former Warrior of Light. “But you made one mistake - one large one, which meant… you’d never succeed.” The Warrior of Light tilted his head. “If you played the role of Chaos… none would play the role of Cosmos. None knew.”   
  
Elidibus couldn’t help but smile. Even now, Golbez could see though these false wars. “In their time, Shinryu was pleased with devouring memories between Cycles. Their contract was broken, and we were gifted with these iteration. Gifted with being cursed to die - helpless in our cries.”   
  
Tataru felt her lips trembling, as she looked between the tall two - but then she found her voice. “And you treated each iteration as a new experiment - to see what stuck? Gee, it would have been nice if you’d told us - either in our iteration or even the seventh.”   
  
“Ivalice is an oddity. Like those who do not quite exist yet - Prompto and his kin,” Elidibus said, as he gestured towards Tataru. “When I was given the form of this… not quite Lucavi, I decided it was a sign. If I am to be the Chaos of this realm, then I would craft a Cosmos - in a realm which survived one end.”   
  
Waiting a moment, Elidibus looked to the sky - to the faded moon. “This realm - this iteration - holds much from others. I thought it may hold Cosmos - or one who carried Her will.   
  
And I was right. Hydaelyn is Her - and now, with two who carry her will, we have a safety net.   
  
When this iteration ends, she will awaken fully. The First will fade, as will all of these damned shards. Fractures of a whole - I thought that if they came together, it may be the iteration which ended this.” Elidibus seemed oddly quiet - looking to himself. “And yet… I must continue. Your kind will be safe - Hydaelyn— Lady Cosmos will let you rest.”   
  
Elidibus turned - to leave. He’d explained himself - he’d told them what he was. Who he was. But then, he felt a hand on him - turning a little, he noticed the darkened hand of Golbez. “You are Chaos,” Golbez began, seeming to smile a little - trying to appear kind (as Cecil would, so long ago), “but you do not need to suffer alone. I… have done unforgivable deeds - as have those here. And yet, I am accepted by most.   
  
If you come with us, I shall make sure we can craft a brighter iteration - one with conflict that does not risk Shinryu. You know more then most - we can re-awaken those who slumber.”   
  
Silence seemed to fill the plains, as Elidibus considered the proposal. These people were too kind - even Golbez would accept him? Was he crazy? On the other hand, he’d spent so many iterations - the final play though, the finale before Shinryu arrived - trying to help others. Helping those who were to die. He’d gone from escaping his crimes to becoming a form of martyr. How… quaint. Softly putting his gloved hand on Golbez’, the Elidibus gave a soft nod.   
  
“I shall try.”

* * *

Before the end, before all of that, Belias had been called out by Emet-Selch— by Haurchefant. To overlook Ishgard once last time - Esper and Ascian. As they sat, legs danging from the cliffside, Belias couldn’t help but look to Haurchefant - sighing, placing a thick arm around both of the halves of the Ascian. “I hate to admit it,” he began, seeming to cool down a little, “but you were right.   
  
Man changed.” As he spoke, though, Haurchefant crawled onto him - leaving his more feminine side to get cuddled.   
  
“Man hasn’t changed, my dear Belias. Some have,” the Elezen replied, huffing. “Can you not tell when I’m joking? Man is cruel to those they don’t see as proper. To bastards and beasts both.” Haurchefant took in a soft breath, looking back out to Ishgard. “There are some to love, however. Such as my dearest family.   
  
Belias, you never told me. Why did you choose to live as a Man? Truly, if it was just the pull of Ivalice and your charge, could you not have appeared as a Primal?”   
  
Belias scoffed, burying his head in his fur. This was one time he wished he had his mask. To mask not his embarrassment, but… “I wished to seek another who awoke. One who lingered - to protect another.   
  
My… old boyfriend.”   
  
“Ex, or…?” Haurchefant asked innocently, beginning to crawl up this sheep-esque demons’ fur. Grinning. Even an Esper fell in love, hm?   
  
It was complex, though, as Belias shook his head. “He fell for the man who was last sacrificed for me - the one whos’ mind bested mine. A man known as Basch. Though Ivalice has faded, I carry his mind within.” Belias knew that this sacrifice wasn’t how it was meant to go - he could remember the seventh iteration, where Ivalice was born. He did not know of any of this, and did not desire this kindness. (Even if Ramza had charmed him and become friendly with him.   
  
That worlds’ final life was strange - perhaps it was a story he would tell those Garleans later. See how it compared to their myths.) Even so, Belias let out a gutteral chuckle, seeming to echo though the snow. “That man - Balthier - loved him. But he would have found another by now - not a beast such as I?”   
  
“Wouldn’t have I?”   
  
Turning, Belias stared - a small owl-like creature, with too many legs, hovered above the snow. With him were two others - the small bird who glimmered like stars and yet seemed to be shaking, and—   
  
“Venat,” Belias snarled - trying to ignore that he’d heard Balthier. Haurchefant remained sitting on him, though, stopping Belias from rushing upwards, from attacking the Occuria.   
  
Venat stepped backwards a little. “Belias. Please - we are not enemies - I can leave.”   
  
“You helped craft my form. You abandoned me—”   
  
Balthier got between them, chuckling. “And you were just saying how you missed me. Why, if Venat helped make you, that’d make us siblings.”   
  
Snorting, Belias looked at him - before frowning. “You don’t— I mean— hmph. We shall finish this once Hydaelyn falls,” he said, before putting a hand to Balthier. “You do not mind?”   
  
“You don’t mind I’m a bird, Captain,” Balthier said - landing on his arm, his many legs gripping onto him. “Why, I’m glad we met again.”   
  
Those words seemed to hit Belias more then Balthier knew - as the maskless Esper nuzzled him. Smiled. Haurchefant gave a bit of a smile to the other birds - this was beautiful.

* * *

The final sunset of the end was quiet - too quiet. The skies had turned black, glitching out - but not just that, people seemed to stutter and shudder. The ground shuddered, and many adventurers had made the trek to watch their home end. Though the Scions had not told them, somehow, so many people knew. Mostly adventurers, those people who wandered.   
  
After Garlemalds’ presence past the Wall was known to have faded, groups went though to at least reclaim their home - chief among them were the Riskbreakers. When asked why, their leader said they wanted to, before the world ended - it was the principle of the thing. Groups had gathered in all the City-States, around Aetherytes - talking about what they’d do next. Some seemed quite curious to why they’d managed to get into that area, beyond where they’d roamed, at this time. But it was fine.   
  
And yet - and yet, stories from Garlemald had trickled out. That some of their people had refused to be recalled, had battled - and had been killed. Killed as traitors, for Garlemald was gearing up to fight the end of the world.   
  
But it was the final sunset, and Thancred felt Bolormaa grip to him. She was nervous - the two of them were the most knowledgable - as the Archons gathered at the Mark of Thaliak. It felt the most fitting - along with the Ironworks. The adventurers with them had moved elsewhere, there were places to say goodbye to. But the Archon could not return to Sharlayan - nor would they want to, not now.   
  
It felt like they’d felt this before, when Dalamud fell. The Return-point. Urianger had tried, but he’d not saved them. And yet, they were going to be okay. Yda held Moenbryda and Papalymo close, Lyse cuddling onto them both as well. Yda was alive - she was here. Minfilia remained holding to Thancred, softly looking to the sky. She’d been one who’d gone to watch Ala Mhigo become free, reclaimed in its’ final moments. She’d gotten to see it, even if she could not aid. Urianger stood leaning into Moenbryda, Alisaie and Alphinaud standing right by the mark - Alphinaud still sickly.   
  
As the world flickered away, went dark, it is said that one of Garlemalds’ strongest swordsmen, one obsessed with katana, laid a single mark on Shinryu - managed to harm it, if only a little. But even that could not stop what happened. Nothing could stop the dragon seeming to soar though the world, nothingness enveloping everybody. Then again… they’d prepared for it, said their farewells, gotten ready for the next adventure. They were lucky enough to share this lifetime - even if it was different then how it should be.   
  
Could they not create a new world, a new adventure, of their hopes and dreams? Only time could tell - it was a peaceful end, for those involved.

* * *

The first of the group to wake, the first who shuddered with the breath of the new world, was Nero. It made sense - he was a robot, he never slept. But the air smelled ever so slightly of magic, and of smoke as well. Not a bad smoke, but… “Magitek,” he mumbled, shifting to touch Cid. Cid was there too, slowly sitting up - eyes unfocused, his horn regrown. Curiously, Nero touched it - it was solid, even if Cid still was slightly slimy. “You feel that? Make you feel… horny, Garlond?”   
  
It was worth it to say that, even as Cid dragged him down next to him, snorting in the softest way. “This isn’t what I thought the afterlife would be,” Cid admitted, laying next to Nero - neither of them needed to sit up right now. Besides, laying there, Cid could rest on top of Nero. Gently crawling on top of him, head slightly off of him. “That’s what this basically is.”   
  
Pausing for a moment, Nero couldn’t help but agree. “There’s a lot less fire for both of us.”   
  
“Ah— all of us,” a third voice said - Velas’a was near to them, sitting there, legs still missing. But he seemed fine. “We’ve all fucked up in th’ past. But… maybe we can work harder, here. If it’s a new world, with more people…”   
  
“You’re not getting rid of us, rabbit,” Nero said - smiling. It felt wrong without the three of them - they could all stick together. And perhaps even that other rabbit, Velas’to, as well.   
  
Meanwhile, Bolormaa had woken up, cuddled in the talons of Thancred. It hadn’t hurt - and slowly, the rest of her… family? Family. They were waking, looking around confused. The small mammet Minfilia was sitting with them, smiling. “We all arrive here - this is where our new world begins,” she explained. “It is where we were born, and where everybody arrives. It’s why we’ve left it very natural - but there’s homes for everybody. Over the next week, everybody shall arrive - ah, a seven-day week.”   
  
“She’s right,” Thancred said, his body fluffing up - realising his voice sounded a little less melodic. A way to prevent death or tempering. But he looked over - Alisaie almost looked like an Au Ra, as did Alphinaud.   
  
It was cute. Alisaie stood, stretching. “We— we can go, right? I want to see what’s out there.” With Minfilias’ nod, Alisaie rushed off - barely looking where she went. Her body didn’t hurt, even if she knew her wings could come out. This world was theirs, and there was nothing that could stop her. Until she saw a familiar man, coming towards the entrance to the world. One who still looked aged, features only slightly modified with feathers and the feeling of life. As her eyes focused, as her legs began to rush forward, Alisaie could only scream out one word, a mix of shock and excitement.   
  
“Grandpa!”   
  
Seeing him… somehow, everything felt right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: this fic has been a meta fic the entire time. The iterations, clearly, are the other mainline Final Fantasy Games. The way that Eorzea fell once before, but began again? Yes, that’s because of 1.0. I recall a few comments around when Stormblood was launching that ‘it was like Heavensward was going away’. For example, due to losing skills. So why not have that as an important plot point? If the NPCs got aware. Dissidia NT was coming out at the time as well, so I decided to mix Dissidia plot into it - to give an excuse for crossover good times. This is also why the 11th world is seen as weird - it’s another MMO! It’s lived for so long! And why Prompto exists and also doesn’t exist - Versus 13 was announced during FF12s life, and FFXV was nearly cancelled a lot! 
> 
> A lot happened in Garlemald behind the scenes, let’s be real. Elidibus let them know about the basics, that their world was to shift and they’d lose more and more territory - so wouldn’t they try and fight it? Fight the end? 
> 
> The AUs were inspired by silly comments, or just random ideas. Around 2.55, there were theories that Tataru was going to betray the group - so why not play with that? Why not just lump all these Alternate Worlds together and see how it goes? It was NaNoWriMo time, and plus - due to Urianger trying to drag them back to 1.0 (which is impossible, because different installer/game) - they were corrupted and mixed with other data. 
> 
> Bolormaa - with the last name Sagahl - is my current main in-game, on Adamantoise. She was made as a joke (Minfilia but with guns), and has become a wonderful character. This is also the reason that Golbez is a female Roegadyn - I have an alt like that, on Balmung. 
> 
> Though it wasn’t mentioned in-story, Yda is the aunt of Zenos in this universe. I plan on writing more drabbles, and perhaps a sequel - but especially drabbles, to explain things I couldn’t slot into fic while keeping story semi-straight forward. There’s a lot of half-finished scene in my notes… flashbacks to Yda getting given Lyse, Alisaie as a lil kid getting an axe, more Cid and Nero cuddles, and the like. This is my first finished fic, and I’m really proud of it.

**Author's Note:**

> For more drabbles and future things in this universe, visit: http://animulae.tumblr.com !


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